#anyway please be nice about my and lorenzs poetry

[indigowallbreaker]

Can you please write some Lorenz/Bernadetta with 'squeezing hand for comfort or encouragement' from the handholding prompts? :)

(Writing Lorenz is just so fun, it’s a wonder I don’t do it more. Have some cute post skip encouragement/comfort!) 

Lorenz had spotted Bernadetta some time ago, standing in the shadow of the stables and shuffling her feet. He didn’t acknowledge her-- spend enough time around the shiest member of the Alliance army and you picked up a few of her cues. If she had yet to make herself known, it meant she was still working up the courage to approach. Move too quick and she’d run back to her room. With a bit of patience, however...

“H-Hello, Lorenz.”

Hiding an amused chuckle, Lorenz turned around. “Good afternoon, Bernadetta!” He greeted, placing his curry comb on a nearby stall door. She tensed up. Softening his voice, Lorenz asked, “May I help you with something?”

Bernadetta held a rolled up piece of canvas in one hand. The other was clenched at her side. “Um, well, kind of. I have something for you.”

“So I see.” His eyes flickered to the canvas.

“But-- I won’t give it to you unless you promise not to get mad,” she said in a rush.

Lorenz knew she spoke fast when she was nervous, and he hated being the one to cause such nerves. He really thought he had improved his bearing since their school days. “I promise,” he vowed.

“You still might. You don’t even know what it is yet!”

“A gift from you could never be something to lose my temper about.”

“But--”

“Bernadetta, I may never know what the gift is unless you show me!” Lorenz held out his hand. If this were anyone else, he might have said her behavior-- demanding promises and withholding gifts-- was unbecoming of a noble. But Lorenz knew Bernadetta had a lot to overcome before she could tackle learning the nobility’s social graces. He would hold back his criticism for her. But only for her.

Taking a breath that puffed out her chest and raised her shoulders, Bernadetta gave Lorenz the canvas. He unrolled it carefully. What he saw made his eyes widen.

It was a painting. A thick forest with sunlight pouring between pine needles and branches. In the middle stood a tall person with their back turned. Before them, one hoof stepping out of the dark of the trees, was a horse wearing a timid, yet trusting expression. 

“This is...” Lorenz’s mind spun with adjectives, each as ill fitting as the last. “This is... wonderful!” He settled on. He beamed at Bernadetta. “How could I be angry with this? Look at what you’ve created, Bernadetta! A masterpiece!”

Her cheeks flushed with the praise. “I-- Oh, well-- I...”

Lorenz looked over the painting, trying to see what Bernadetta saw. It was easy to get lost in the details-- a few hairs of the horse’s mane out of place, the shadows on the forest floor, dirt on the person’s boots, the cautious hand outstretched. What was he missing?

“The last time we had tea together in your room...” Bernadetta gulped. “You left to get more cream for my tea. And I was looking around. And I found a notebook open on your desk a-and... read a bit of it.”

Dread creeped up Lorenz’s spine. “You read one of my poems,” he surmised. 

“I didn’t mean to! I thought it was a textbook o-or a tome! I didn’t realize what it was until I recognized your handwriting!” Bernadetta folded and unfolded her hands before her, head lowered, eyes darting around like she was making sure she had an exit. “After that, I couldn’t get the words out of my head. ‘Unsure steps on a well trodden path, I make it clear I hold no wrath, out of the dark steps the one I love, lit only by the sun above’. It was beautiful! I had to paint it!”

It certainly sounded beautiful, in Bernadetta’s voice. Lorenz opened his mouth but Bernadetta beat him to it. “I knew you would be mad!” She shrieked, turning away.

“I’m not-- Bernadetta!” Lorenz flung out a hand to grasp hers, squeezing it tight. “I’m not angry! I am-- I admit I am embarrassed you read unfinished work of mine, but I am far from angry at you!”

“But I-I read it without asking! Invaded your privacy! I could have read Alliance secrets and then you would have had to kill me and we wouldn’t be friends anymore!”

Lorenz snorted indignantly. “Really, as if I would leave such a thing out in the open with company around.” He tugged her closer and spoke firmly. “I do not recommend making a habit out of snooping. But if my words inspired you to such creativity as this, then I’m honored.”

Bernadetta met his gaze at last. “R-Really?”

“Indeed.” Lorenz look at the painting again. “But I must ask, why a horse?”

“Well, the poem talks about trying to help a scared creature, and you like horses, so I thought that might be what you were talking about?” She frowned. “W-Was I close?”

Lorenz looked down at Bernadetta-- who, despite her growth these past five years, was still smaller than Lorenz. The terror had left her face but she remained cautious. And her hair certainly wasn’t white. 

“No. You did miss your mark on that front.” He laughed when she huffed with disappointment, sounding much like a horse herself. “But you are not wrong, I do like horses.” Lorenz let go of her hand to roll up the canvas. He bowed low. “Thank you, Bernadetta. I will treasure this gift.” 

[omgkalyppso]

💫 <3

Thank you for the ask!!

Here's some of the beginning of chapter 35 of my soulmate au. Fae, Lorenz and Ignatz in a car.

244 words. No spoilers, probably needs reworking. uwu

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When Fae collected Lorenz and Ignatz from work, their vehicle was full of plants. It offered little room for Ignatz in the back seat, tucked in place with a pot between his knees, and the trio shared a laugh as Fae apologized.

“It’s fine,” Ignatz assured them, shuffling forward in his seat to breathe in the scent of the plant in his lap. “It smells like…”

“A forest?” Lorenz suggested.

“Heh,” Ignatz blushed, “I was going to say a fairy circle.”

“Mm,” Lorenz agreed, smiling about Ignatz’s poetry. “Something alluring anyway.”

Fae looked over their shoulder at Ignatz as they stopped at a red light. They nodded in his direction to gesture to the pot in his lap, “That one’s a type of jasmine.”

“Like the tea?” Lorenz asked, twisting about in his seat to try and smell the little white blossoms.

“No,” Fae chuckled, “that would be too much work for both me and that little guy.” They sighed. “No, he just smells nice.”

“How wonderful,” Ignatz marveled. “Would it be strange to come over some time to try my hand at some still-lifes?”

“Wait, do you like that one?” asked Fae. “Because you can have him. I was growing a smaller one for my dad, but it’s not really his style anyway.” They laughed. “I have doubles.”

“What? No, I couldn’t—” Ignatz protested.

“Please. No, please,” Fae insisted. “You can even rehome him. I can only saddle Flayn with so many flowers.”