Kyle stepped into the kitchen, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes as soft morning light filtered in through the thin curtains. The air still held the scent of dew and cedar from the mountain wind, but it was quickly being replaced by something warmer—something sweeter.
Because she was here.
Buer had slipped in ahead of him, gliding across the smooth temple floors barefoot, humming some airy Sumerian lullaby under her breath as though she hadn't nearly suffocated him with affection just minutes earlier. Kyle watched her now, trailing just behind, as her eyes lit up the moment they landed on Egeria.
"Egeri~aaah!" Buer sang, her voice rising into a delighted lilt as she practically skipped the last few steps forward.
Egeria, already seated at the low stone table near the open window, looked up from her cup of tea just in time to catch the incoming goddess in her arms. Her eyes didn't widen, her lips didn't part in surprise. She simply adjusted her posture—subtle, graceful—so Buer could fit herself against her like a vine wrapping an old, familiar tree.
Kyle blinked.
Buer, ever the sunrise, pressed her face into the crook of Egeria's neck and purred with delighted satisfaction. "You always smell like tea and stone and moonlight… Mmh, you're always so cold in the morning too. It's unfair how lovely you are."
Her words tumbled out in a steady stream of devotion, laced with teasing affection and the intimacy of someone who never needed to ask permission. She clung to Egeria's side like a second robe, hands curled into the folds of her sleeve, cheek brushing against her collarbone.
Egeria didn't speak. She didn't respond with any dramatic gesture. But the stillness of her grew softer somehow. Her fingers—still wrapped around her tea cup—loosened ever so slightly, and her head tilted in a way that allowed Buer to remain nestled against her. If one watched closely, they might even see her thumb graze along Buer's shoulder. Barely there. Ghostlike. But present.
That was how Egeria loved.
Not in loud words or sweeping embraces, but in the way she allowed herself to be held. The way she stayed. The way her eyes closed for a moment longer than necessary when Buer pressed close. A quiet, enduring stillness that let you know she didn't want you to move away.
Kyle watched the two of them from the counter, hands moving through the familiar rhythm of morning tea-making—boil the water, prepare the herbs, arrange the cups. He cracked eggs into a pan, chopped scallions, stirred the rice porridge with practiced motions. But his attention was elsewhere.
Gods.
They looked like they belonged to some other world entirely—one made of moonlight and old stone, of incense and immortal things.
Buer was radiant, her joy infectious. She kept whispering things against Egeria's skin—little praises, nonsensical poems, the kinds of words you only say when you don't expect to be refused. "Did you miss me?" she asked at one point, voice muffled in Egeria's robes. "I missed you enough for the both of us."
Egeria didn't answer aloud. She didn't need to. She simply rested her hand on the back of Buer's head, fingers buried in those soft, green-tinted waves of hair, and let her stay there.
Kyle swallowed. He wasn't sure what stirred in him more—envy, reverence, or simple confusion.
Buer made no attempt to hide her affection. For either of them. Her touch, her voice, her gaze—it was all so open, so bare. And Egeria… Egeria received it all like the ocean receives the tide: with quiet gravity, with ancient patience.
It was a strange dynamic.
Unnatural. And yet…
Completely seamless.
Buer peeked over her shoulder toward Kyle as he stirred the pot, her cheek still pressed against Egeria's shoulder. "Don't burn the eggs, my little sprout. I'd be heartbroken if you didn't cook something lovely for my first morning back~"
"I haven't burned anything," Kyle muttered, maybe a little sharper than he meant. "Yet."
Egeria glanced at him—just once—but said nothing.
The moment passed like wind through paper doors.
"Ah~ he's so serious," Buer whispered to Egeria, giggling softly. "Do you think he'll ever relax around me? Or will he just keep blushing until his soul combusts?"
Egeria's lips quirked—not quite a smile, but something near it. "You haven't given him much opportunity to build tolerance," she murmured quietly, her tone low and unreadable.
"Hmm," Buer purred, delighted. "But if I stop overwhelming him, he'll never become immune~"
Kyle sighed, turning back to pour the tea into their cups. "Do either of you know how strange you look?"
"Strange?" Buer tilted her head, the motion catlike. "No. Sacred, maybe."
Egeria didn't respond. But when Kyle turned to bring them their cups, he caught the way her hand lingered on Buer's back, fingers gently tracing slow circles—so faint they could've been imagined.
Kyle turned away from the two goddesses, focusing his attention on the pan as the eggs reached the perfect texture—fluffy but rich, golden around the edges. He scooped them gently beside a bowl of warm, seasoned millet rice before adding thinly sliced herbs, a drizzle of elderflower honey, and a delicate pinch of sea salt, just how Buer liked it. Sweet, earthy, comforting.
At the other end of the counter, a small tray was already being arranged with quiet precision: roasted lotus crisps seasoned with mountain pepper and moon-salt—Egeria's unspoken favorite. She never asked for them, but Kyle had picked up on the small tells. The way her fingers lingered a second longer on the bowl when they were offered. The way her expression softened just slightly with the first bite.
It was strange, he thought, how easily their preferences had become routine to him. Natural. Like the shifting of the wind or the hush of distant water. He plated everything in silence, then poured the warm tea into three delicate cups—one herbal and lightly sweetened for Buer, one spiced and bitter for Egeria, and one simple for himself.
He approached the low dining table and placed the tray gently in front of the two figures nestled together on the bench-like seat built into the stone window nook.
Buer looked up with a wide, delighted grin. "Oh~ Is that millet? With the honey I love? Kyle, you're spoiling me—mm, was it guilt-flavored, perhaps?" she teased, eyes dancing as she leaned in and took a long breath above her bowl. "Smells like love~"
He shot her a dry look but didn't respond.
Egeria accepted her cup with a faint nod, her gaze dropping to the crisps before returning to Kyle's face. "Thank you."
Just that.
No dramatics. No softness in her tone. But her fingers lingered on the tea's porcelain rim for a moment longer than necessary, and Kyle found himself reading into it anyway.
He finally sat across from them, legs folding beneath him as the steam from their breakfast rose in soft, fragrant curls between them.
And for a while, no one spoke.
The only sounds were the quiet clink of porcelain, the distant breath of wind outside the windows, and the faint rustle of fabric as Buer shifted closer to Egeria, delicately feeding herself a spoonful of rice while still half-draped over the other woman.
She ate slowly, savoring every bite. "This is so warm and soft… You always remember, don't you?" she said to Kyle, not as a tease this time, but with genuine fondness. "Even when you pretend you don't notice."
Kyle kept his eyes on his food. "It's just breakfast."
Buer giggled and leaned sideways, resting her head on Egeria's shoulder. "Egeri, he gets so embarrassed when you praise him. It's adorable."
Egeria sipped her tea without looking at either of them. "He cooks because he cares."
It wasn't a compliment. It was a simple fact. But the weight in her voice made something catch in Kyle's chest.
He looked up, finally meeting her gaze.
Egeria's expression was unreadable as ever—serene, cool, eternal—but there was something in her eyes. Something calm, like the steady pull of a tide that had always been there, long before he ever set foot on this mountain.
And beside her, Buer beamed like sunlight on water, radiant and warm.
The two of them—so different, so distant in how they expressed it—but the closeness was undeniable. They didn't even need to touch anymore to feel like they were connected. When Buer leaned into Egeria's side again, Egeria didn't move away. Her hand rose to brush through Buer's hair almost absentmindedly, and Buer hummed in response, like a flower turning toward the sun.
Kyle watched them from across the table, a strange ache blooming in his chest.
They looked like they belonged to each other.
Maybe not in the way mortals did, with labels or declarations. But in something older. Something slower. Like rivers that had wound beside each other for centuries, shaping the land between them without ever needing to cross.
And he—he was just beginning to understand the depth of that current.
His voice came quietly, almost without thinking. "You've known each other a long time, haven't you?"
Buer looked up, surprised by the question, then turned to Egeria with a small, fond smile. "Longer than most temples remember."
Egeria didn't reply, but her eyes shifted to Buer for a heartbeat. Something passed between them—soft, silent, reverent.
Buer turned back to him. "But that doesn't mean you're an outsider, you know. It's just… we're a bit strange. The way we love."
She said it without shame, without hesitation.
Kyle swallowed and looked down at his bowl again.
Strange.
Sacred.
Just immortal.
And somewhere between their eternity and his uncertainty, he found himself suspended—present in the moment, and still outside it.
But when Egeria finally glanced his way again—just for a second, just enough—and when Buer reached across the table to gently brush her fingers against his, warmth blooming there in her touch…
He felt it.
A tether.
However small.
He wasn't entirely outside it anymore.
[A.N:- Stones and reviews are highly appreciated, thanks for reading.
Bonus chapter today if we get 40 stones.]