Rune Factory 2: One Hundred Themes 036: Smell

Warnings: Rated mid-to-high T. Not going to tell you what for, though, because that would ruin it. :D

Characters: Kyle and Rosalind.

Rune Factory 2: 100 Themes

Theme 036: Smell

.~.~.~.~.

Her smell reminded him of spring.

Like newly-cut dew-covered grass and fresh water bubbling down from the mountains. Like the flowers that grew around town—Pink Cats and Toyherbs, like the cherry blossoms in the Square, or maybe like that elusive and beautifully golden Emery Flower he had recently managed to grow after seasons of work.

Yes, an Emery Flower would suit her well, he thinks. Its golden leaves shimmered in the sunlight like the emeralds of her eyes: precious things to be cherished (he could lose himself in them if he ever got the chance to gaze into them long enough). It stood tall and regal, golden tendrils reaching up to the sun and enrapturing all who saw it, just like her (he couldn't keep his eyes off of her whenever she was in the room).

It was perfect… (just like her).

There wasn't anything he wanted—no, needed—more.

As he tended to his crops, he thought of her. When he was caring for his monsters in the barn, brushing and collecting their produce, he thought of her. When he was lying in bed, late at night, the only noise a hooting owl outside and the shuffling of his limbs under the sheets, he thought of her.

He couldn't get her out of his head. Her long, silky-looking sky blue hair (so, so soft, the thought of running his fingers through it made him quiver), her slender, dainty hands tipped with lacquered nails (so, so smooth, imagining how they would feel against his skin made him grow oh so hot), the brilliance of her smile (those lips, he wanted to kiss them until they bruised), the soft angles of her frame (so perfectly shaped, he wanted to run his hands down it). He had only known her for a few seasons, and already she had completely captured his heart and soul. He loved her so much he couldn't stand it, not anymore.

She would be his. There was no other possible conclusion, he was confident of that. He had already come up with a plan. He had spent days perfecting it—endlessly going over every minute detail, every possibility of something going wrong (not like it would, but it never hurt to be prepared for everything), and thinking and planning out every moment. This was his masterpiece; she was a masterpiece (like the Emery Flower he had picked just hours before, sitting serenely in a vase on the kitchen table, glittering in the orange glow of the firelight), and nothing could go wrong. He was almost giddy with excitement: it would happen tomorrow. There was just one more thing he had to prepare, and he would be ready.

He sat on the hearth in the light of the fire, the only sounds in the house the ghostly hooting of the owl outside, the scraping of metal against metal, and the occasional giggle that ripped itself from his throat.

She was his, and there was no harm in taking what belonged to him, right?

.~.~.~.~.

A/N: This was actually really fun to write, aha. It has been a long time since I've tried anything other than your typical schmoopy-woopy romance/falling in love scene. :D While fluff is nice and all, it feels good to do something different.