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It was hard for Kitchi to stay upset when Flint was around. She had a myriad of problems, a multitude of responsibilities, she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. It seemed like evil had outnumbered her on most days, was she the only hero? Could no one else exile the ghastly wicked? She was a worrywart, had been her whole life, but love changes a person.
And so despite the risks in Skyrim, in spite of Alduin, the world eater, in spite of every single foe that stood in her way, she smiled. Giddy, even.
Even mundane things bothered her less and less, if one could call Skyrim’s weather a mundane topic. Hot and humid or cold and tempestuous (because rarely is it ‘just right’ in Skyrim) she smiled. On sunny days she could watch Flint sunbathe, admire him splash water on himself to alleviate the heat, and if it rained she could listen to him sniffle, or listen to the soft hums and whistling as the rain washed off the dirt and grime from his fur - even if he ended up smelling like a wet dog afterward.
Love had consumed Kitchi, and everyone could see it. She’s certain that her companions Xelzaz or Nebarra have caught her staring fondly at Flint, certain she’s heard at least Nebarra mumble about it.
She wondered if Flint felt her piercing gaze against his back, although he said nothing. Maybe staring had always been a habit for her, since she met him.
Occasionally Kitchi would stumble as she walked, misjudging a step on the harsh Skyrim terrain. A disastrous habit of hers, staring, especially since even if she paid attention to the ground and whence she walked, she would stumble nonetheless.
She stared down to the hooves of Flint, and then to wonder, she wondered.. how did it feel for him to walk on unsteady ground? With the flat hooves that he had? Was it easier? Must’ve been, horses seem to have no issues, she assumed, never having close contact with horses to know.
He did say a few times he must’ve gotten rubble stuck in his hooves. Kitchi began to feel thoughtless. Her mind wandered to those dozed-off, mindless girls she saw when she left the house sometimes, swooning over a man. Had she become thoughtless? Was she always?
Being smitten was a baffling concept to her, a disease she did not for a moment think she would ever catch—although, she wanted to. By the nine, she wanted to, she had always felt lonely, as if she was missing out on something. Now that she has caught it, by exposure or some other matter, it was embarrassing.
More than anything, more than love, more than admiration, she loved companionship. She loved when she could earn a snicker from Flint, to hear his hearty laugh when he was drunk, it was a stark contrast from when he was angry. She never wanted to forget it, never.
She continued, deep in thought. Maybe if Kitchi was younger she would have let the world end. Defeating Alduin would’ve been too much effort, too impossible, and she may have thanked Alduin for eating the world.
But now she had to delay the end of mundas, the next world will have to worry for itself. She could not let it end while Flint was still here.
Flint would sparingly compliment Kitchi for her work as Dragonborn. Often saying he wouldn’t care enough, although acknowledging that he carried her in most battles. Oh, and only if he knew that the sole reason she wouldn’t let Mundas be annihilated was because of him? To Oblivion with her favorite animal, to oblivion with the children, she would’ve rationalized that Alduin eating the world would save the children from the war or the hardships of life—no, she saw the beauty in rage, in poverty, in war, in the ghastly creatures of night, the acrid stench of draugr. There was beauty in the beggar who spat on her feet even when she offered a gold coin, beauty in the way the beggar looked at her with gratitude, beauty in the way she and Flint condemned the rich.
THUD!
Kitchi had fallen over rubble, falling onto the grass and stones beneath her. Flint stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her. She had fallen with her hands covering her face, her arms had slight red marks to them, from the stones; with her luck, she was fine.
“You can’t do anything can you?” Flint muttered, as he leaned down to grab Kitchi and bring her to her feet. “Like a fawn just out of her mothers womb.” He flicked her forehead at her inability. “Watch where you’re walking, Kit.”
“Sorry, I was distracted…” She gulped as her eyes darted downwards towards her leather boots.
She was such a fool for him.
“I could tell.” He leered down at her, there was a moment of silence, Flint, while scratching the back of his head, broke the silence. “Do… Do you want to sit down and have a snack?”
“Yeah… sure…” she said, wiping her clothes off.
Flint and Kitchi made their way to sit on some logs, Flint bit into an apple, although it was gone quicker than Kitchi could process it. She, on the other hand, brushed her hair with a wooden comb, her hair got poofy and went frizzy, but she merely began to braid her hair.
“For someone who just ate shit you don’t seem so phased.”
It’s hard to be upset when you’re around.
“Hah… just a fall. You know I’ve seen worse.”
“You have.” Flint mutters. “You’re staring at me a lot, you know.”
“O-oh? Have I?” Kitchi doesn’t know how to respond, and so she plays clueless.
“Yeah, usually you walk in front of me, wandering over to every blue mountain flower in sight and plucking it… the flower would mysteriously end up in my hands, you’re usually quite the chatterbox.” Flint mulls.
“Y-yeah. I-I guess I usually do.”
“Mhm.” He leans forward as he sits on the log, his knees are already practically touching his jaw, but despite that, he hunches further. “And you haven’t spoken a word in at least an hour, standing directly behind me.” Flint’s voice sounds hopeful, almost teasing, but there’s a hint of something else that Kitchi can only assume is insecurity. “What’s that about?”
“Um.” The interrogation makes Kitchi flustered. She’s insecure too. For some reason, loving Flint feels like a sin. To admit she’s head over heels feels like she’s… using him. To say that she loves his body and his mind makes it feel as though she’s inauthentic. Insincere. Maybe she was projecting when she heard insecurity in his voice.
But to say it? How could she tell him that? If she said that he was her reason for living would he be suspicious? ‘Then you would’ve killed yourself before we met’. But she wasn’t alive then! Not really!
Wasn’t admiration this perverted, disgusting thing?
I was thinking about how cute you look when you’re in the sun, the way the golden light radiates off of your perfectly brown fur—disgusting, wasn’t it? He would think she was using him for his appearance.
If she were to say him saving her every battle— she would be using him for his strength.
If she said she liked his company, wouldn’t she just be saying that it doesn’t matter who he is, she just is… settling; avoiding being alone?
“Kitchi?” Flint snapped her out of her thoughts. She had to think for a moment to remember what his question was. “You look…”
“I’m sorry!” She buried her face into her hands. “I just… I can’t take it! I love you so much. I try to keep my composure, I really do, and… I did, I did for a really long time…” Kitchi bit her lip. Why was it embarrassing to love… her lover?
“What are you talking about?” He laughed, heartily, although he looked at Kitchi as if she were this… bizarre creature. “I know you love me.” He says. “No one puts up with me if they hate me… let alone… gives them a diamond for crying out loud.”
“I just… I was thinking… about you… but I feel… ugh… Flint,” she removed her hands from her face, licking her dry lips as she continued to speak.
“Gods damn it all, Flint, life is so much better with you in it.” She whimpered. “I was… I was so sad for so long. Without you I might’ve… I think I would’ve let Alduin end the world, without fighting much.” She began to ramble. “I’m… thank you, for being who you are. Life is so much better with you. I love being with you, by your side. I was… alone, for so long.” She doesn’t know why, maybe it’s the shame, or the embarrassment, or the fear, but she cries. “The world is so much more beautiful with you in it. My life feels so much… better with you. I would have nothing without you.” She has to take a few deep breaths to regulate herself, to prevent herself from hyperventilating. Flint tentatively places a hand on her shoulder during this, massaging soft circles into her skin. “I love everything about you, and-and it’s so weird, and I’ve never felt this b’fore—” She hiccups, and Flint forces himself to cut her off.
“You… you’re too good for me.” He whispers so softly that Kitchi almost doesn’t catch it, he whispers it so softly she pretends she didn’t hear it. “Kitchi… are you crazy? You can tell me that whenever you want to…” he covers his mouth with his hand, avoiding eye contact with her. “I mean… I already know it, you know. But… it’s so nice to hear.” His smile is evident in his voice, although so is his coyness. “I never thought someone would love me this much. I never thought someone would be so overwhelmed with love for me to the point of crying.”
Flint looks down to Kitchi, he thinks she’s weird. Unbelievably, irrevocably weird. He looks down to her, admiring the way her brown skin shines in the sun, the way her skin is so warm underneath his touch, the smoothness of her skin. His eyes fall to her lips, the fullness of them that draws his to her.
He cups her face and although he wouldn’t normally— he pecks her lips with his mouth.
“I love you.” She smiles as she wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry… I don’t know why I’m so emotional today.” She huffs.
“Probably because of your… cycle.” Flint jokes, mostly because he can smell her cycle before it even starts.
“Hey!” She slaps him on the shoulder instantly at his comment.
He laughs.
He thinks of how he just lets her punch him, knowing fully well that he could over power her. He loves the trust she has in him, especially since when Kitchi first declared her love to Flint he had immediately threatened to leave her tied up to a tree.
“I have half a mind to carry you in my arms so you don’t fall again, but I think that’s all part of your plan.” Flint says, as he begins to stand up.
“W-well, I’m certainly not op-opposed to the idea…” Her words trail at the end of her sentence.
“No way in Oblivion, Kitchi.” Flint turns towards the path. “Let’s go.”
She follows suit, although not before slipping her hand into his.