Disclaimer: Rune Factory 4 and its darling characters do not belong to me.

There were trinkets and paraphernalia of all kinds flooding Leon's room. With every item that was picked up with Frey's curious expression, Leon would set aside sparse words to describe them.

"Ventuswill had chosen me as her dragon priest," of his plumed fan.

The clinking small pouch on his bed, at the foot of their intertwined legs: "Your smile you paid for."

A shard of blue porcelain. "Xiao Pai was shocked at my appearance when I first walked in."

His voice per se was a rich baritone that Frey didn't mind listening to without a pause thus was not long before she had him going. His words began to meld until sentences, phrases, words, sounds were indistinguishable from one another.

I saved your autumn grapes from last year and had Porcoline make some wine

Dylas accidentally broke his fishing rod trying to lunge for my throat

a stone piece of the carved room that sealed me for an eternity

temptations of poisonous concoctions to be mixed wi-

accessory we forged together at Bado's

at the lake when we first

your touch is

fond of

us –

Frey hiccupped as she emptied her cup. Leon paused to lean over and gently pick the small glass from her hands and set it aside.

The glass… that she had given him on a date once, at Blossom's general store. Four leaf clover drinking glasses of which one was now on the bedside table and the other, still filled with wine, in Leon's hand.

"And these…," he said with finality, "your gift to me."

Frey hid a languid smile. "Oh? I didn't know. You sure you're not mistaking them for another girl's?"

He found himself hesitant. Choked at the no. Zipped lips spilling words barring teeth tongue thick with drink and muddled beyond belief. The wine faltered at the cusp of the glass. "Quite… sure."

Sure? She plucked herself away from the cradle of his body, mind honeyed with fine liquor and heart still at large. His heart loyal to memories. Hers a heart willing to share. "We've had enough for the night, I think."

No. "The night is still young." Young, young and full of promises; promises of old and promises of new, never fulfilled but still next to Leon's breast while immortal time flowed, the river that refused to be blocked by the mere likes of a dam and continued its movement across the lands to the sky and ocean.

Frey shook her head. "It must be late. I wonder what time it is." Despite Leon's many belongings that he had come to gather within the short time he had since settling in Selphia, never was there a clock in his possession.

Young. Eldest even in face of Blossom. Spring dawned on his life while it dusked on the old tongue and writing and

a youth forever entombed: superseding civilizations, empires, cultures, traditions with sleep granting life far past that of the great native dragons of new and old

"Not a second after, not a second before," replied Leon.

A firm "I have to go." Work was to be had on the morrow.

"Stay," quietly plead Leon while letting her go, thunder in his ears and a pounding in his blood. Time stood in the still of the night, and of that, he was frightened.

Frey sighed and turned to give him a lingering kiss on his mouth. "Good night," she greeted. "…It's high time you got a clock."

He frowned unhappily against her lips. A clock? She is leaving?

Frey resettled herself back against his chest, her nose buried deep into hot sands of yester years.

"Bad morning," Leon responded, pressing a firm kiss to her temple.

I tend to write a lot of angst, don't I...? It never occurred to me.