@prismatic-starstuff heard you were thinking about a certain merchant~
You were grateful that Limgrave was farther away from the frigid mountaintops. It wasn't often you had to worry about the biting cold. The bitter Limgrave nights were all you really worried about. Even then, you had a very pleasant solution to cold nights.
However, today was an especially windy day, and with winter fast approaching, you were practically chilling to the bone. You were sure your breaths were solidifying to cubes.
Truthfully, it was a wide exaggeration, but Kalé found your embroidery cute when you expressed it to him. The merchant, however, found he rather liked the cold, though. His garments usually caused him discomfort in the heat, especially during the shift between spring and summer. Not only that, but on colder nights he could feel the burning inside him chill to a small flickering ember.
The northern chill also gave Kalé the excuse to pull you in against his chest as he wrapped his arms securely around you. Not that he really needed the excuse. Often he'd pull you into an embrace whenever you weren't particularly busy, and were in perfect reach of him. Despite having a distaste for the heat, he rather liked your warmth.
He remembers you asking him once why he doesn't just travel farther north. He had told you that he'd prefer to stay as far away from the capital as possible. If Caelid wasn't, well, Caelid, he'd consider traveling there as well. You suggested the weeping peninsula, but having heard word of frenzy nestled somewhere there, Kalé decided he'd rather avoid it all together.
You had giggled at him saying, "For a wandering merchant, you don't travel much". He had let out a small laugh, recognizing that you meant no ill will behind your words, having already known eachother quite a long while by that point. He hopes one day, though, that he'll have the courage to tell you the truth.
Kalé looked at your shivering form huddled so close to the flickering campfire. He worried, with how far you were leaning, that you'd fall right in.
So he swiftly scooped you in his arms, and brought you flush against his chest. You gave a surprise squeek, but quickly nestled into his embrace, your knees pulled close to you. The merchant wrapped his legs around yours, and pulled you yet closer to him.
He moved his arm, so that he could pluck his hat from his head, and felt you lean toward it, already missing it by your side. Kalé chuckled. He nuzzled his face into your hair, planting a kiss through his mask, and then leaned back slightly to take his hat off. He placed the hat snuggly on you, before resting his chin on your head.
"comfortable, my love?" Kalé asked you.
"Very much so" you said wishing that the laws of the world would allow you to press ever closer to your beloved. "Thank you"
"For you? Anything." He declared. "I love nothing more than to have you close to me."
"Oh, then im sure you're really looking forward to the coming season, as per usual?" His laugh answered your question.
Despite not liking the cold, you had to admit it had it's perks. Kalé seemed to be happier this time of the year. Seeing his spirits lifted never failed to put you at ease. Especially, considering your suspicions regarding his past. You always tried to make him happy.
Along with his better mood, the chill of winter tended to inspire more frequent acts of intimacy between the two of you. You had to admit that you sometimes looked forward to the cold season. All in all, you suppose winter wasn't so bad, regardless of how it bit at your skin.
You had Kalé with you though, so you knew that no matter how cruel the lands grew, or how cold it got. You both would be okay.
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The faint lights of the falling leaves flicker and reflect in Kalé's eyes as he watches them drift down from the sky. He, like all his people, may be spurned by the grace of the erdtree, but he cannot deny its beauty. Especially on nights like this when the leaves dance on the wind like millions of fireflies. It makes him think of autumn and the deaths necessary for life to begin again in spring. Of snow and bare branches and a chill that settles in his bones. Of endings.
He hasn't played in quite some time, but with the tree sentinel dead, and the roving soldiers too far away to hear and too far gone to care, he allows the mood to strike. He picks up his instrument, lightly plucking the strings and adjusting the tuning pegs. Setting the bow in place feels like greeting an old friend, and he relishes the way the first note carries through the ruined church. As is unofficial tradition he closes his eyes and sinks deeper into the sound and feel of the song against his fingers.
He plays a song to welcome autumn, for falling leaves and bitter chill. A farewell song played on the last night someplace before breaking camp at dawn. He isn't sure who or what he's bidding goodbye too, but the song feels suited all the same.
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