#im just out here sitting on a bunch of diaspora fic bc i have no self control

[writingesgaypism]

it cost me -5% friendship with aisling, but dammit i wanted her to be able to show off during the shaman trials

also shoutout to @diasporatheblog for having a blog full of useful pieces of trivia i can write in for authenticity(tm). i think about the phrase “a preponderance of bluebells” from the first post that mentioned aisling’s gardening hobby like, at least once a day

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“I found out the name of those new flowers you planted the other day,” Fionn says, closing their eyes and tilting their face towards the sun. “Lantana.”

Aisling hums. “Did you ask Aemilius?”

“No. I got to chatting with one of the visiting merchants. Apparently it’s more of a summer plant, Ais.”

She smiles at the resurfaced old nickname — Fionn knows because they open one eye to check, then close it again before she looks over — and clicks her tongue thoughtfully. “Do you know if it’s perennial? It may be at the end of its blooming season, but it could always come back next year.”

“Believe so.”

They’re sitting out by the garden Aisling had started as soon as she’d found the time. A good portion of the plot has been set aside for herbs and things; medicinal plants that are useful in the ointments and balms she uses to supplement her work when the injury isn’t serious enough to necessitate magic, or when her patient isn’t amenable to magic in the first place. There’s even a few vegetables starting to come in: leeks and onions and potatoes. But at least as much space is devoted to flowers whose main function is in looking or smelling pretty.

In her spare time, Aisling has been collecting plants from around Divio to try growing herself, branching out from what she was used to growing back north. It’s been, not exactly a steep learning curve, but an interesting one. The townsfolk (such as Aemilius) like Aisling and are more than happy to help out when she asks, but Fionn likes to lend a hand sometimes anyway. At the very least, they enjoy listening to Aisling talk about it.

There’s a pause that feels more expectant than a natural lull in the conversation would, so Fionn opens their eyes. Sure enough, Aisling is regarding them rather cannily, idly brushing dirt from her hands. They head her off.

“Yes, I had a particular reason for coming out here. Just wanted to sit a while first.”

“Oh? Is it serious?” Aisling asks, and it’s more playful than anything.

They tilt their head back and forth. “Serious enough, I suppose. It’s an apology.”

Aisling blinks at them, amusement fading.

“Your trials,” Fionn clarifies. “When I hid the flag. I… may have been a little too enthusiastic. At best I was being meddlesome; at worst… Well. That’s why I wanted to be sure I apologized. So, I’m sorry, Ais. You didn’t need my tampering.”

“I did wonder,” she says slowly. “But I would never suspect you of trying to ruin my chances, Fionn. Still… Thank you. For saying so.”

She’s not quite admitting that they did anything worth apologizing for, but there’s something measured in her tone that says she isn’t entirely dismissing their words either. It’s another reminder of how far she’s come and how beneficial coming south has been for her. There’s more of a steadiness about her now, the foundations of confidence building up.

Fionn doesn’t bother to suppress their fond smile. “What was it the Council said? Something, something, most impressive display of magic any of them have ever seen…?”

“Fionn,” Aisling says, warning diluted by her nose scrunching up and cheeks already beginning to flush.

“Even if I had been attempting to sabotage you, I think it would have just made you look better because you’d have triumphed regardless. And I think if had kept my interference to myself, you still would have impressed everyone there. I think—”

“Oh, just…” Aisling can’t cover her face with her hands because there’s still dirt clinging to her skin, but she looks like she very dearly wants to. “You hush.”

The admonition isn’t especially strong, but Fionn obliges her anyway, still grinning.

“I think,” Aisling continues after a few moments, once the blush starts to fade and she turns back to her garden, “that I can forgive your meddling in return for the promise of one free pass should I ever need to meddle with you.”

“Oh? You foresee this being a likelihood in the future?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aisling says primly, fighting and mostly succeeding at keeping a smile off her face.

Fionn laughs, only a little surprised and entirely delighted. “I see Izzy’s rubbing off on you. Or Pan. Probably both.” They pretend to deliberate. “I suppose I can allow it. Between the two of us, you’re the one with all the common sense, anyway.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just holding onto yours for safekeeping.”

“Well,” they drawl, leaning back to return to sunning themself, “can’t think of a safer place than with Maghnus’ very own shaman.”