At First Baguette [Wingy!]

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Mizuko had already been up for two hours. This was no unusual occurrence, either for a baker or for anyone who knew her. Accustomed to rising at an ungodly hour of the morning, she inevitably opened her shop at six on the dot, and even now, at five-thirty, the young baker had tantalizing displays laid out in the windows. Croissants nestled against loaves of dark, rich bread, and baguettes leaned against the back of the display, baked to golden perfection. This was one of the last things she always did, and now she only needed to clean, sweeping out the bakery before her first customers arrived. In keeping with tradition and her own peculiar nature, the baker sang a little ditty about bread as she swept, flicking what little dust there was out the door with a 'la-ha! Flour for chickens!' that probably would have disturbed anyone who didn't know her.

"And we're done!" Mizu announced to no one but herself. With a flourish and a laugh, she deposited her broom in the back, and then set to her other morning ritual: the baguettes. Not the ones in the display, but a number of other breadsticks, wrapped carefully in brown paper so they stayed clean. These the baker stuffed in her shirt, arraying them carefully so they didn't get in the way of her vision. Making sure that the cinnamon rolls in the oven weren't going to turn into ash in the ten seconds she was going to be distracted, the baker zoomed to the door, and hung the hand-painted 'OPEN' sign in the window. Beside it was doodled a rather badly-drawn muffin; nobody cared about the lack of artistry as far as she knew. It was exactly six o'clock, and Mizuko clapped her hands together, flitting back to the counter and her precious cinnamon rolls. As always, she'd opened her shop exactly on time.

People weren't filing in yet, though. Although one or two stopped by in search of an early breakfast, not many people got up before the sun even rose, as their jobs tended to be those pertaining to the outdoors. Mizuko didn't mind. It was on these days, these cold, snowy winter days, that she got to do the most baking. Cakes, rolls, cookies and all manner of breads and pastries already lined the baskets and shelves set on and around the counter. Now her cinnamon rolls were in the oven, and she began kneading a lump of bread dough into shape as well, singing cheerily to herself. In another half hour or so, people would be just pouring in, and then she would have steady business all day! Until then, she would knead her bread, and tend her cinnamon rolls, and maybe make some more cookies, which seemed to be popular. If anyone annoyed her, she already had a baguette ready to hit them with, set on the front counter where she could easily grab it.

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[winged]

The flight to Sayaie had been a precarious one. Having trained astride her massive gray, the proportions and flight patterns of her borrowed mount had injected uneasiness into the novelty of the trip to Sayaie. It was just a day’s escape – and the circumstances that had led up to this moment were unsurprisingly foggy, as the decisions had been made on the fly, with the assistance of a pint or two to loosen her resolve. As soon as her boots touched down upon packed soil, and the young woman turned to face the slowly populating streets, however, her uncertainty melted into the background. “Thanks for the lift.” I’dou spoke with the partial understanding that Shadoph might, or might not respond. She wouldn’t press the issue, either way. He did this as a favor to Xo’li, as a favor to the desperate gray rider who’d forwardly pronounced her desire to get away, with an enthusiasm that she dwelled on with moderate embarrassment. It was better not to dwell too long, and so with a half-hearted pat to the scaled leg closest to her current position, I’dou set off to wander Sayaie for a few brief hours.

At first, she kept to the main thoroughfare – raised in Chydyn, the primarily urban center fascinated and distressed her in equal parts. There was never a lack of something to glance at – whether it was a bright sign enticing customers with promises of new product and big sales, or houses clustered so tightly together they might as well have been one. It had been at least a year since she’d stepped foot out of the Eyrie’s cavernous walls, and it was a real eye opener. Fortunately, those sleepy faces that were venturing forth at this hour were considerately few and far between, so the gray rider had plenty of room to maneuver and gawk. It was all so distracting, and drew her thoughts pleasantly away from the turmoil she left at home. Brooding in one corner of her mind, she could feel her gray’s discontent, but thought it best not to breech at that point in time. Laraph was just being silly – she just wanted a breather, this would help clear her head.

And if she’d ridden Laraph here, she wouldn’t have nearly as much anonymity as she enjoyed now. By that point, the sun had properly crept above the horizon, washing Sayaie in pale dawn that grew steadily stronger as minutes ticked past, and lengthened into an hour, then two. That’s when people started giving her looks – she’d worn her riding gear, and by default stood out against the milling crowds of girls in pretty dresses, and the men in their overalls and trousers. Whispers began breeding, as countless pairs of eyes spotted the blue simourv lounging on the outskirts of town. A blue rider from the Eyrie – on Search? Hadn’t there just been a Hatching? The mystery and intrigue fueled by idle minds wrapped itself like a shawl around the young woman; she didn’t seem to terribly mind, however, what with the sly smile that touched the corners of her mouth. No, this…was actually somewhat enjoyable. She was known, and yet unknown. A non-entity with appeal.

Slowly, she began drawing a nebulous cloud. Hopefuls with no greater desire than to be whisked away to a life of grandeur, or rebellious girls just looking to nettle their parents by messing with a devious rider. There were a few young men as well, though they were speckled sparsely amongst the throngs of females. At first, I’dou’s responses were stilted – uncertain of herself, and her stance on this sudden topic of interest, she cut a silly image of shyness. That only seemed to attract more attention, however, and before long she found herself settling with surprising comfort on a web spun entirely of lies. A blue rider – she was just a blue rider, and she was out on patrol. They all seemed so eager to believe it, as young and naïve as they were. And I’dou, being equally young (if not necessarily naïve) eventually found peace in the falsehoods, and shrugged her discomfort aside.

It was almost…fun. Seeing how far she could take it, how much grandeur she could spin from nothing. Requests for her name were neatly avoided, attention diverted from the specifics of her identity. She surprised herself, even, with a few flirtatious passes, and not a single one intended for the slack-jawed gentlemen in her tiny posse. They were lively, and they ignited a livelier spark in the gray rider than had been seen by many for months – I’dou was animated, and her stiffness melted away into self-possessed confidence the longer the fabrication grew.
Eventually her swarm of admirers dispersed – some to jobs, some to their homes; real life interjected itself most unfavorably into the fantasy and mystique, and they bid adieu most grudgingly. I’dou sympathized outwardly, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Too much! She felt drained, and it wasn’t even noontime yet! Reluctant to turn back now, however, I’dou seized on the option her growling stomach presented, and began searching for someplace to eat. She felt like a child – recalcitrant and unwilling to return to real labor after a playful jaunt; and she was inclined to favor her childish desires, in such a contented mood was she.

Casually studying the food shoppes around her, I’dou caught a whiff of the most heavenly scent as a door from the shop behind her opened out onto the street, carrying with it the smell of the bakery on the heels of a satisfied customer. Pivoting to observe as the drably dressed madam strutted away with baguettes clasped protectively close to her bosom, the rider’s eyes slowly, almost lazily drifted over the window-front display, mouthwatering as she did. Sweets. Sweets upon sweets, such as she hadn’t had in a dog’s age. Any and all thoughts of a substantial meal fluttered whimsically out one ear as she stared at destiny in sugary form.

After gazing in loving rapture for several lovelorn moments, I’dou bustled forward, before pausing tentatively at the door and, fingers wrapping gently around the handle, tugged it open before stepping almost reverently inside. Food was a beloved thing for the woman, and it was clear from the bountiful baguettes and loaves on display that this was a sanctuary crafted by one equally in love with food. A promising start, to be sure, as I’dou slowly began to circulate around the tiny floorspace, peering and gaping at one pastry, and then another. Ohh, what did she want? Something smelled phenomenal, whatever it was that she’d caught a whiff of out on the street.

By then, another customer had entered, calling out for the presumed baker. The curiousness of the name snagged I’dou’s attention – Mizuko? She was intrigued, but buried her nose in a basket of baguettes to disguise it. Thusly she was divided between partly scrutinizing bread, and partly awaiting the arrival of the baker of whose racial origins she presumed. She expected a middle aged matron, a homely and motherly figure. The bread-wearing maiden that emerged was, therefore, entirely off in left field. There were a great many distracting details – the main being the sticks of bread the girl had elected to shove down the front of her shirt; fortunately, the baker’s attention was diverted and I’dou had the freedom to gape openly for a moment, before slamming her mouth shut. The gray rider failed to shake the stunned look entirely, however; instead, she continued to peer from half-behind a shelf, feeling inexplicably shy as she realized just how pretty she was, besides the, you know…bread.

The other girl’s cheerfulness made it all the more daunting. There was something about a gentle smile that threatened I’dou’s constitution so much more aggressively than actual aggression. It threw her off-balance, as greatly as if the world’s axis had swung sideways. Silently, however, I’dou acknowledged that she could not cower behind croissants for the remainder of the day and she slowly crept out into full sight as the short transaction was completed, doing her best to look collectively cool, avoiding Mizuko’s eyes by staring with unnatural attention at the ceiling instead, trying to reconsider the suave blue rider she’d been acting the part of just a few short moments ago. “You uh, you bake here?” Her voice quivered - just barely, but it was likened to a scream in her head.

Witty was her middle name.

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Every day Mizuko spent here was a day of pure bliss. She'd spent so many years flitting about in her parents' bakery, and then she'd realized that she wanted something... more. She wanted to challenge herself, to run her little shop as she wanted to run it, with no restrictions. If she made mistakes, they were her own and she paid for them herself. At the beginning, she had accidentally bought flour that wasn't quite up to her standards. She'd learned from that, and had since bought only the highest-quality things she could find and afford. And even though it was hard work running her little shop, the young baker couldn't ask for anything more. She lived for this - the bustle of customers, the scent of fresh bread and pastries and delicious treats. And the people! Oh, she loved the people! People and baking together made her life go round. It had always been that way; she simply couldn't contain herself when it came to making friends - or baked treats.

It was why her customers seemed to like her, for the most part, except maybe those who were a bit skeptical about her bread-wearing. Personable and bright, she wasn't the most popular of people because she rarely left her shop - but she didn't need to be. Those who frequented her little bakery knew her, and she knew them, and she considered every one of them a friend as well as a regular customer. Most had been hit with her punishment baguette, but they didn't seem to mind. One had once argued that if she were going to hit people she should use something more suited to violence, but Mizu had quickly argued that actually hurting people was mean and that many people simply laughed when she hit them with breadsticks. It was like her own, personal form of fame.

"Mizuko!" someone called, interrupting her thoughts, and the baker abandoned her self-assigned task of making a basket of honey buns look prettier. "Coming!" she chirped, and flitted over to the customer. Could she fetch half a dozen fresh bagels and three muffins? Why, yes! She could! Grinning brightly, the baker stuffed the requested goods lovingly in a bag, and handed them over to the woman at the counter. With an expression of thanks, the lady bustled off to attend to her daily business, and the young woman turned to arrange the buns again. Having completely missed the customer hiding behind the baguettes. Seemingly alone for the moment, she burst out into one of her little ditties about bread before finishing her task and turning, only to find someone standing there. Dark eyes widening in surprise, Mizuko took a moment to compose herself, but then grinned at the question and nodded. "I do!" Either she missed the quivering of the rider's voice, or she kindly chose to ignore it in favour of her next project.

She'd baked dozens of chocolate chip cookies this morning, and for one reason only. Mizuko did not sell her chocolate chip cookies. A little piece of heaven was priceless, so the baker grabbed the basket of cookies, slung it against her hip, and then held one way up, just over the customer's head. "The ceiling's not very interesting, you know. Look at this cookie instead," she ordered, and then held the treat right in front of the rider's face, smiling cheerily. "Here. It's yours."

Forcing the other young woman to take it, Mizuko flitted back to the counter, dropped off the basket of cookies, and took a moment to pull a loaf of bread out of the oven. Depositing it on the cooling rack, she pushed the door to the oven shut and then trotted back to her customer, still smiling, still wearing the bread shamelessly in her shirt. "Sorry about that. Can't leave the bread in too long or it'll brown too much and ugh! So, how can I help you? I haven't seen you around here before." And that was a novelty. Most of her customers were regulars, not riders! Privately interested by the specialized outfit, Mizu put on her most winning smile, adjusted a baguette as it threatened to slip sideways, and waited cheerfully for the answer.

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[winged]

Despite having hailed the girl in the first place, I’dou still jumped a little as the baker’s honey-sweet voice rang out in response to her stammered question. Color flooded the woman’s winter-pale face as she redirected her nervous gaze back a more appropriate place, namely Mizuko’s face. Her eyes didn’t so much as wander a centimeter beneath her cute little chin, they remained zeroed in with a bit of an alarming tenacity; tenacity that was momentarily broken as a round, flat bit of chocolate dotted bread was plied upon her. Blinking profusely, I’dou bent and sniffed cautiously at the still-warm treat as Mizuko turned and scuttled temporarily out of sight, before taking a nibble.

Oh. That…was good. What had she called it…a cookie? The female had never tasted anything so, so rich before! It was buttery, off-set by the gooey warmth of the melted chips. She was properly distracted, as a child with his toy, by the treat while the baker busied herself with the ovens tucked just out of sight. The rest of the cookie disappeared with frightening swiftness, crammed almost unceremoniously into the gray rider’s mouth - scarfed, and savored as unashamedly licked the chocolate-y residue off the fingers of her ungloved hand. There was nobody else in the shop, and the baker’s back was to her; it was too good to waste!

When Mizuko shuffled back to her previous spot to interrogate her most interesting customer, she did so to face I’dou with one finger still popped in her mouth. A finger that was quickly removed, and jammed unceremoniously behind her back along with her other hand, the rider clearing her throat hastily. “Just patrols, ma’am. Want to make sure the city’s safe.” Still nervous, but somewhat emboldened by Mizuko’s extended generosity, I’dou managed a fluttery smile, one that grew more solid by the second. “Haven’t had any problems, have ya?” Her original intentions were handily forgotten – hunger foregone in favor of…something else. Having next to no prior experience in this sort of matter, I’dou was perfectly accepting of winging it.

Oh, but there was something nagging at the back of her mind, something that was highly distracting. “Is there uh, a reason you’re…wearing your product?” Her voice grew slightly fainter as she proposed the question, tapering off as she ogled the offending baguettes in question.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Mizuko couldn't even pretend not to notice the blush that spread across the rider's face, and a knowing grin appeared on her own. Partly because of that and partly because the young woman's gaze was now settled on her face, where it should have been in the first place, Mizu stuffed a cookie into her customer's hand and then zipped off to tend to the bread baking in the oven. When she returned, it was to find the peculiar rider still standing there, licking chocolate off one finger. A broad grin spread across the baker's face. "That didn't take you long. Not that I blame you; I like 'em too. Can you taste the love, or just the chocolate?" Laughing, the baker set to her inquiries, dark brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

She could tell when people liked her baking, and it looked rather as though this rider had never tasted anything like it before. Unbidden, a little surge of happy pride made Mizu laugh, and then she settled down to listen to what her customer had to say. Patrols, eh? She wasn't sure why a patrol-rider had to come into the bakery, but she certainly didn't mind. Although she'd never met one of the famed simourv riders before now, she supposed that they could be tempted by the smell of fresh bread just as anyone else could (since she was guessing that might be the real reason for this visit).

At being asked if she'd seen anything amiss, however, Mizuko stifled a giggle and settled for a cheery smile instead. "Nope. A couple of small koxi attacks, but they never got to my bakery. Good food drives them away," the baker proclaimed, raising a fist in the air. She'd lost friends to the koxi, that was true, but one couldn't linger too long on that sort of thing when one had a business to run. Besides, she wasn't one to question her extraordinarily good luck - maybe her baking really did drive the monsters away!

It didn't drive away the rider's nerves, however; Mizu could still see that the other woman was still a bit nervous. Still, her smile was growing more assured, and the baker's in return was bright and sunny, just as it always had been. Of course, at being asked why she was 'wearing her product,' the baker choked on giggles, and sucked in a deep breath before she recovered, chuckling. "Oh. I always do. It keeps the bread warm longer," she explained, grinning. Of course, there were other ways to keep bread warm, but this was her preferred method. Besides, it invariably drew questions from newcomers - the same question every time, and she had to admit that it was fun to answer. Plus, the looks on people's faces when they saw her wearing her baguettes was priceless. "You can have one, if you like," she offered, touching the brown paper wrapped around one before an impish gleam appeared in her eyes. "But you'll have to pay for it. Only the cookies are free." She nodded decisively, and grinned. "Besides, they're not uncomfortable. No more than your riding gear must be," she added. Who wanted to wear leather? It was so much less comfortable than an apron - and probably dirtier, too. But she had to admit that it did look pretty impressive next to the linens and flannels of everyday folk. To each their own unique style, right?

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[winged]

Mizuko was just so bubbly it was hard not to grin like a god-given fool when she turned the full wattage of her attention upon you. I’dou found herself nodding along in agreement with the silliest notions, a cheesy grin plastered on her face and brightening up what had formerly been the hallowed grounds of misery. She was only burying it, temporarily, but the imagined freedom was worth the later regret. I’dou was positive of it. “Maybe a bit of both.” The nuances of the word ‘love’ seemed to have loosed a cluster of butterflies in her stomach, or maybe it was the look Mizuko was giving her. Either way, she stupidly sat there and basked in the warmth before the baker was off again, tackling another question with an energetic fist-pump that actually drew a laugh out of the rider.

“Maybe we should employ you to fight the koxi for us!” What an imaginable sight, although she did sober a bit at the mention of the heavily armored monsters that were inevitably set to cross her path in the future. The thought of fighting them, spilling blood and taking heads with the very sword buckled on her belt (here her fingers idly traced the finery gilting its sheath) seemed out of place in such a warm, hospitable little store. “So it’s really all yours?” I’dou glanced around, again, at the bakery crowded with goods. “Impressive.” Indeed, a small amount of respect glimmered in the young woman’s eyes as she regarded Mizuko in a new, appraising light. She gave off one vibe, but clearly the upkeep of her shop proved another layer to be hidden just beneath the surface. Interesting…

Innocently, I’dou nodded her way right into the devious trap the baker laid. The choked giggles were naively brushed aside as a habitual action, and not as precursor to the tease that laid in wait. I’dou began to suspect something was amiss, as Mizuko’s eyes seemed to take on a more devious light, and her grin faded slightly as the girl’s fingers stroked the glossy paper one of the baguettes was wrapped in. Her next words brought that crimson stain right back onto her cheeks, I’dou’s eyes wide as the double entendre hit its mark. “W-well! Um, I’ll…stick with the…cookies.” Embarrassed and equally sheepish, acknowledging that she’d fallen for that (and she’d been staring right at it, too!), I’dou managed a nervous little chuckle at her own expense, scratching at a particularly non-itchy part of her scalp for physical distraction from her temporary mental distress.

Just how many customers had she tricked that way? Slightly less open now, but potentially more intrigued, I’dou forced herself to shake off her embarrassment. It wasn’t as if Mizuko could read her mind – it was just a sly jab, she did it to everyone, certainly! Trying to convince herself of that, she eagerly latched onto the matter of her riding clothes, glancing down at them in fair study as Mizuko pointed out their lack of comfort. “…you get used to ‘em, and you certainly don’t want to get caught flying without ‘em. ‘sides, they make me look good.” Building off of her minor successes with the other girls, and the fact that she did, in fact, cut a nice figure in her leathers, I’dou struck a more confident, less sheepish pose, smirking as if smugly aware of that fact and its undeniable truth.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Aha! So the mysterious rider wasn't entirely clueless after all. 'Maybe a bit of both,' she admitted, and Mizuko grinned triumphantly, her eyes bright with laughter. "Ah, good. You must have refined tastes," she commented slyly, tone rippling in amusement. Oh, there was certainly suggestion there too - Mizu wasn't above flirting, especially with someone as entertaining (and, she had to admit, rather adorable) as this rider. The increasingly strong urge only grew more powerful when she fist-pumped and the young woman laughed, suggesting that she should fight the koxi.

"Sure thing," Mizu agreed chirpily, striding to the front counter to pick up the punishment baguette. She swung it in a constricted circle, not wanting to obliterate any of her baskets, and then pointed it at the rider as if it were a sword. "I'll kill them with my baguettes, shall I? But only if they don't run at the sight of the croissants." Laughing, she set the baguette back on the counter and then flitted back to the girl before her. Almost indignantly, she huffed a little at the question. "Of course it's all mine!" she grumbled, before brightening at the word 'impressive.' "Isn't it? It's my darling," the baker trilled, touching one of the baskets next to her. "I didn't want to work under my parents anymore, so I started this bakery. Isn't it gorgeous?"

No, she certainly had no shame in boasting about her bakery. To her way of thought, it deserved the praise, and she did too, for sticking with it right from the rocky start. This shop was her baby, her child - she loved it more than anything in the world. Even more than teasing customers, which always struck her as fun. Particularly when they blushed as furiously as this rider did. Mizu couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing and caught the rider on the shoulder with one hand. Squeezing it playfully, the baker grinned and then shook her head, letting go of the young woman with another chuckle. "Sorry, sorry. I just can't help myself sometimes," she apologized insincerely. She obviously wasn't sorry; the pink stains of laughter on her cheeks were all that was needed to tell that much. She wasn't a mean person, but she did appreciate a good laugh - and the look on her face! Oh, it had been too much to bear. So she'd done what she always did with mirth overload: she'd laughed!

Oh. Oh, this was an excellent opportunity; she couldn't miss it! As the rider explained that the riding clothes made her look good, a smirk appeared on Mizu's face, and she licked her lips thoughtfully, as if considering. Her grin only grew wider when she noticed the identical smirk on the rider's face. "Oh, they certainly do!" The baker winked, and then stepped back just long enough to grab a cookie out of the basket. Hiding it behind her back, she moved close to the other girl, and then lifted the cookie to her lips, tilting her head with a sly expression in her eyes. After she spoke, her lips parted just a little bit in a teasing smile. "But you'd look better with something really delicious in your mouth..."

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[winged]

I’dou favored Mizuko with the same, smug look as she was complimented on refined tastes. A good ego stroke never did much harm, especially after being cut down so smoothly beforehand. Something told her she was getting in over her head, but with a cute face like that and an infectious laugh I’dou was happy to sit in her stupidity – again. It was as if memories of the previous attempt were wiped entirely off the face of the planet. It wasn’t love, but it was damned well close enough. The longer she spent dawdling here, clumsily playing a game she’d only just discovered, the more smitten she became. This was more potent stuff than she’d bargained for – her feelings for T’gan, the little thrill from toying so closely with that green in lessons, they paled in comparison to this intoxicating little cocktail.

Shame had certainly flown straight out the window – there wasn’t time to be ashamed, not when she toed a line between suggestion and actuality that she was increasingly eager to cross. “Hm, guess I do.” Playfully stroking her chin in contemplation, the rider leaned back reflexively as Mizuko dashed off, and quickly returned, baguette clasped in hand and swung about like a proper weapon. That tickled her funny bone, and again I’dou was laughing, a curious sound that sounded rusty for lack of use. She was laughing so hard she was nearly in tears – oh, it stung!

Oh, her face! She was making the funniest looking face, and the baguette that sagged ever so slightly made it even more hilarious. “Y-you got me beat!” Waving her off lest Mizu actually damage something (potentially herself) with her vigorous swings, the gray rider fended off hiccups as she listened to the baker sulkily pronounce her ownership and consequent pride in the tiny shop. “It’s very well taken care of.” She loaned praise where she thought it absolutely necessary, another admiring look spared for their surroundings. “I’m sure your parents are proud.” That was spoken more quietly, with some reservation. The topic of parents was always a painful one for her.

Feeling as though she’d run the gamut of emotions, I’dou settled once more into a more passive state of existence, that passiveness undermined as her eyes finally drifted from their anchored spot, wandering the soft curves hidden beneath Mizuko’s flour-speckled apron and attire. “…is that an offer?” Hesitantly, still physically shy, she prevented herself from taking a step back when Mizu boldly closed the distance between them, eyes seemingly unable to settle on either her eyes, or her lips. Her face burned red hot, and suddenly her warm jacket felt a few degrees too hot.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Mizuko was having the time of her life - she really was. Although she didn't always tease people so mercilessly, she offered a sly smirk at the girl's comment that she did in fact have refined tastes. "I can see that," she whispered mischievously, grinning. Her laughter joined in the rider's as she attacked the air with her baguette, stabbing and slashing in a technique that wouldn't have earned her any points with a real sword but that was terrific fun with a breadstick. Giggling helplessly, the baker at last returned her weapon to the counter. "Of course I do," she affirmed cheerfully, still laughing.

Of course, she swung straight into sulkiness when the rider commented incredulously on her shop. Her mood only zoomed back up again when she heard that her shop was impressive, and she nodded enthusiastically. How she loved her little bakery... it was her darling, her baby, her first love! And yes... her parents were proud of her. A soft smile, nothing like the teasing ones that came before, appeared on Mizu's face, and she nodded. "They are," she said quietly, her eyes glad but her tone more subdued than it had been. This was partly due to the rider's own quiet voice; curiosity flitted through the baker's eyes but she didn't ask, deciding that it was a topic to be broached later, when it wouldn't ruin their fun.

Teasing the other girl with the cookie, her eyes glimmering with both teasing and something like anticipation, Mizuko smiled. It was an innocent expression, and at the same time it wasn't - there was still that little hint of suggestion, that flicker of something that invited more than this. The fiery blush on the rider's cheeks told her all she needed to know, even though she'd already heard the girl's words and comprehended them. "Maybe," she whispered, slipping a little bit closer. Just a little bit, so that she could stand on her toes to look into the other's face, smiling slightly. She leaned a little bit closer...

And then, as she'd been half expecting, the door of the shop opened. Mizuko jumped slightly, stuffed the cookie into the other's hands, then grinned at the girl in riding gear and zoomed off to meet the three customers who had walked in. She put their purchases in bags for them, and then sent them on their way, giving a cookie to each one as a matter of thanks for patronizing her shop. More flocked in, but as soon as the crowd thinned out, she flitted to the door and flipped the sign on it to "out for lunch." That done, she smiled to herself, and then swept back to the rider.

"My question," she murmured with just a little bit of teasing in her voice, "is if you'll take my offer?" She didn't know why she was being so forward, she really didn't. But it didn't matter. She'd always loved things that felt good, and this certainly did. Besides which, she loved to have fun... and this rider was fun. It occurred to her, however, that something was missing. "But what's your name?"

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[winged]

Closer, closer. At some point I’dou went completely still, holding her breath in nervous anticipation as Mizuko’s face crept infinitely closer to her own. She was spectacularly dizzy, then, when suddenly the baker girl was gone as quickly as she’d come, zipping off with fascinating detail to multi-tasking to greet her customers, all signs of intimacy swept away in favor of open niceties and respect. I’dou was, of course, still standing there like a buffoon, apparently lacking many of those same techniques that had Mizu happily shoving bagels and croissants into paper bags as if she lived solely for that purpose. Feeling just a smidgeon of disappointment, the rider at least made an effort to prop herself up against the end of the counter, watching with grudging bemusement as the customers prattled on, sharing snippets of their daily lives with the baker that served them.
It brought back a certain sense of nostalgia, for sure. I’dou could remember the times she’d spent in town with her father, selling excess goods to merchants and eating in dingy little shops before making the long trek home. It was a sense of camaraderie, a different sort than what was exemplified at the Eyrie. And perhaps not so much different, after all.

Feeling rather like a loiterer, I’dou’s attention finally tapered off and she began gazing at the racks of bread once more as Mizuko finished up her sales, glancing back over in time to see the girl flounce over to her door and flip the sign, suggesting perhaps a sequel to their earlier, interrupted shenanigans. A pleasing turn of events, even if her heart was fluttering like a mad bird against her ribcage as she grinned foolishly once the baker girl resumed her flirtations once more, as if there’d never been a pause. She was a bundle of pure energy, this girl, and –oh. Her openly eager expression, the ‘yes’ on her lips, they faded slightly as Mizuko requested a name. …damn, what to do. Enthusiasm veiled for a moment’s contemplation, I’dou grudgingly settled on a snippet of truth to back her mountain of lies (hey, she hadn’t really lied YET…to her). “I’dou.” She granted it with some reservation, as though she expected to regret it later.

A case of under-exaggerated clairvoyance, perhaps. “Now, I remember something about an offer, and my acceptance of it?” That was the really important thing right now.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Mizuko did love stuffing baked goods into bags and giving them to her customers. For one thing, she got diasks out of it, and money was always a good thing to have. For another, it meant that people were enjoying her baking, and if they enjoyed her baking, they would come back for more. And that meant she could keep doing what she loved! Really, it was a rather pleasant cycle and she never minded that it repeated endlessly. She also didn't mind the chatter of the customers; she loved to talk to them even if they had nothing important to say. One of them had a sister who had recently had a baby; Mizu offered her congratulations with a laugh and sent the woman on her way, croissants in hand.

At last, however, they all left, taking their purchases with them. Her stock was beginning to deplete for the day, but that was fine by Mizuko. She liked it when she sold out the shop in a day; it meant everyone got the freshest goods available, and the fresher they were, the better. There were things she was more interested in than selling her bread, though, at the moment. Illustrating these very interests, the baker flipped the sign on her door, and grinned to herself, quite satisfied by what she'd done. Was she sorry about the loss of customers during this time of the day? Of course not.

Returning faithfully to the rider, Mizuko offered a cheery grin. A few of the customers had wanted baguettes, so she only had one or two left in her shirt (they tended not to care because they knew she was careful not to let the breadsticks get dirty). Removing these, and deciding that they could go cold for one day, the baker deposited them on the counter, and then flitted her way back to the other girl once again.

It was impossible to miss the 'yes' and the overwhelmingly eager expression on the rider's face. Something within Mizu responded to it without her even really meaning to; she smiled joyfully, and then requested the other's name. It did seem odd that she'd completely forgotten to ask for it, but that was about to be resolved. And then, for some reason, the question made the rider - I'dou! - wilt a little bit, as though she didn't want to answer the question. Biting back a query as to why, the baker smiled warmly. "I'dou. I like that! I'm Mizuko... but I think you probably overheard that," she added with a wink.

Aha! She was still interested. Adjusting her somewhat floury apron, the baker brushed herself off, and then leaned close to I'dou. "Oh, yes. I'd forgotten," she teased, eyes glimmering. Rising onto her toes - for she was several inches shorter than the rider - Mizuko let her expression soften, and her eyes dropped to study the smooth skin of the other girl's cheek, the soft slope of her neck. She leaned closer, the fingers of one hand resting lightly on I'dou's arm for balance, and then she smiled and caught the rider's hand in her own. "Then come this way," she suggested, lifting a brow conspiratorially. Without further heed to the bread around them, or the window, the baker tugged the rider into the back room, and then up the stairs. Nothing was baking, so nothing would burn while they were up here... and her lunch break could be as long as she liked.

The flat above the store was tiny, but it was stuffed with all kinds of homey touches: a soft little bed in the corner, rectangular windows in two walls, and brightly coloured rugs on the floor. A small bookcase stood against one wall, filled with volumes (mostly about cooking), and small sculptures lined the top shelf. Next to the bed sat a small night table, decorated by three small pink candles. A half-open door led into a closet at the far end of the room, but it wasn't particularly big. Even so, Mizuko turned to I'dou with an expression of pride - and, okay, flirtation. "Do you like it?" she murmured, dark eyes implying that she was very much pleased to have a visitor... particularly this visitor.

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[winged]

Although she hadn’t quite the gall (or heart) to say it out loud, I’dou was relieved to see that Mizuko had unloaded most of her baguettes, and did in fact lay the rest out on a rack. It was a significant gesture, she fathomed, before fathoming became a non-issue and the here and now was distracted again with clumsily feeling her way through a situation both foreign and complex. There were a dozen different meanings to be divined just from a twitch of the lips, it felt. It was all very vexing, especially when the object of one’s infatuation was just a few short centimeters away from one’s own nose, and more importantly, lips.

Oh right, those. Mizuko’s looked terribly soft, and it took a considerable modicum of self-control not to hastily bridge the gap, and take that vital first step. Towards what, her mind was still in the process of computing. But every iota of raging hormones still pumping through her veins suggested it was a Good Thing; morality seemed such a malleable thing, now. Laraph would likely have wilted at the suggestion, but fortunately the gray was busy ripping apart the mauled sheep carcass she’d slain for lunch, taking out her frustrations on her meal that held their source in the woman setting herself up for mischief once more.

But GOOD mischief, really good. She was stifling an anticipatory laugh as Mizuko tugged her upstairs, fingers tightening around the hand that grasped her own. Soft, it felt remarkably soft against her own abrasive calluses. Once they reached the landing, however, she had a far greater spread of sensory details to stretch her attention around. I’dou lingered there, eyes darting from one thing to another as she tried to fit the singular details into a larger frame, the frame that she was slowly building for the baker. Bright splashes of color paralleled richer structural details. It was all very eclectic, and…it fit.

Having seen to sorting out her surroundings, I’dou shifted her attention back to Mizuko, who was looking particularly pleased with herself. Smiling with a note of softness that wasn’t evident beforehand, she responded warmly. “Yeah, it suits you, Mizuko.” It was the first time she’d spoken the girl’s name directly, and she took the time afterward to savor the way it rolled off her tongue. A moment reminiscent of when she’d first spoken Laraph’s name. Lending voice only seemed to cement it in one’s psyche, grant it some sense of permanence. Something that wasn’t easily wiped away with a night’s drinking, or any amount of wishing.

It was sobering, and certainly cut into her formerly raging libido. This…this was something serious. Mizuko wasn’t just a nameless fling – this was a girl, letting her into her home. The girl that was looking at her with some sense of expectancy, or was she waiting for some cue? “Y-you know, I haven’t really done this before…never kissed anyone. O-or anything, really.” At once timid again, I’dou paced a bit before cautiously seating herself on the edge of Mizuko’s bed, unwilling to intrude on properly private space, but finding no other place suitable to sit. “I mean…don’t have time for it. Or. You know.” And stuff.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Clearly Mizuko wasn't suffering from the same nervous pangs that I'dou was, because her manner was easy, calm, although she hadn't often done this before. She wasn't really in the habit of inviting people up into her home except for a cup of tea, but she reasoned that this rider was special. She liked her, and besides, it had been a long time since she'd had any fun. Fun that wasn't involved with running her bakery, that is. Though she had many friends, the baker didn't really go out to be social very much. She got most of the social interaction she needed from her shop.

But this was different. She didn't want to eat a solitary lunch up here, sitting on the floor or the bed (whichever suited her at the time). So she'd brought I'dou with her, intending something entirely different from lunch. The only thing remotely similar about the two activities Mizu had in mind was the fact that they both involved using one's lips. Even if they never saw each other again, and even if she only got the touch of the rider's hand... well, she supposed that would be enough. Enough of a memory of the peculiar fascination she held for this young woman who had been so reluctant even to share her own name. But the baker was glad that she'd told, and glad that she'd brought her up here.

Unfazed as she was, a light blush of pleasure coloured the girl's cheeks as I'dou commented that her room suited her. She smiled, matching the rider's own expression. "I think it does too... it's home," she murmured. All around her were scattered objects that she'd collected over the years. The dark wood of her nightstand, the matching bookshelf... and the brightly coloured quilt that lay on her bed because she couldn't stand to sleep under dark blankets. She was glad that I'dou liked it - more than glad, really, because a soft laugh of pleasure bubbled up from somewhere deep within her. Her lungs, she supposed, but it felt nicer than that. Perhaps she would just have to go the rest of her life without knowing where that gentle laugh had come from, but that was okay.

It was especially okay when Mizuko noted that the rider was pacing, as if unsure what exactly to say even as she spoke. The baker listened with a thoughtful expression in her eyes, and then she glided over to sit next to I'dou on the bed, her leg not quite touching the rider's. "That's okay," she reassured her with a smile, lifting one hand to brush a few strands of hair to one side of her face. "I'm busy, too. Running my bakery, baking for it... I don't know what the life of a rider is like, though." With a small, content sigh, the baker hesitated for a moment, and then leaned over so her head rested on the other girl's shoulder. Maybe it was too forward, maybe it wasn't; she didn't really care. "Do you still accept my offer?" she asked with a note of teasing in her voice. Mizu wasn't entirely teasing, though: there was a note of genuine concern in her voice. She didn't want to take something I'dou didn't want to give. But there was hope, there, too - even if she didn't want to steal a kiss... well, she did want one. She just wanted it freely, if the rider wanted to give it. Though she couldn't say this out loud, the baker kept her head right where it was, and then found the other woman's hand with her own, wrapping the fingers lightly around it. "Your choice," she murmured quietly. It was I'dou's choice. Although she most definitely wanted to be here, right now, how could she justify making the young rider stay if she didn't want to, or if she were nervous?

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[winged]

I’dou was thankful that Mizuko found no problem with filling the quiet stuffed to burst with bright words; distracted with motion and sound, it was easier to feel at ease so far from her natural element. Taken out of context, there was some hilarity to be found in a woman intimidated by such a cramped and cozy flat. There was nothing at all menacing about the knick knacks and odd baubles littering the spotless shelves, or the serviceable bedspread upon which she sat. Certainly, Mizuko held not a candle’s flame to the terrifying image of a koxi – she bore no ill intentions, and in fact was making an excellent attempt at affording I’dou the space she required to second-guess her hasty decisions.

But still, shamefully, there lingered that shred of uncertainty. For its droplet size in comparison to the expansive culmination of every other potential desire, it was proving itself a real thorn in the side of reckless ambition. Even when she did her best to toss her worldly worries over her shoulder, she retained some sense of dignity – both her own, and that of others. Bothersome, as it prevented her from actually taking the steps necessary to being completely care-free. It was like she tried to let go, but morality was digging its grubby feet in and refusing to let go of her in return.

Sitting awkwardly there on the girl’s bed, partially entertaining her company and her words while, in all actuality, wrestling with the notion of coming clean and stopping all this tomfoolery now before it got too intense, I’dou went absolutely rigid the moment she felt the weight of Mizuko’s head resting against her shoulder. And with that, the uglier realization that it wasn’t necessarily Mizuko’s moral state (or her own, for that matter) that bothered her; it was her own inhibitions. She was downright petrified in that moment, scared of the meager advances that she’d stupidly egged on downstairs.

She was second-guessing, again. She knew it and she despised herself for it while she struggled, at the same time, to overthrow it. It took a phenomenal amount of will-power to loosen the muscles that had snapped taut the moment that invisible barrier had been broken. She forced herself to slow her breathing, though she could do nothing for her pounding heart, the sound loud in her ears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work – she had nothing to fear, this was all decided of her own volition! There was no Ros’n here to heap her blames on, she’d wanted this. I’dou had chosen this.

The hand that was limply curled around Mizuko’s suddenly tensed, squeezing with some note of defiance and acquiescence that she’d failed to place into words. Words weren’t her strong suit – they were never her strong suit, so she channeled her energy into action instead. Shifting soundlessly on the bed, I’dou’s eyes were squeezed shut before she made the nervous lunge – as if expecting failure, as she clumsily stole her first kiss.

[‡§åkørü‡]

Mizuko couldn't help wondering what I'dou was thinking about. She was a curious soul; she longed to know what the bluerider was pondering. Thoughts leapt first to the bakery downstairs: was the rider hungry, and distracted by it? Most people entered a store filled with food to buy that food, after all. All the young woman had eaten was a cookie, such a short time ago. Yet it felt like eons, as if Mizu had known I'dou for years instead of minutes. It was a peculiar feeling, one she hadn't experienced before, and as she always did in new situations, the baker pounced on it, trying to figure out what it was before it slipped through her fingers and got away. Although her heart wasn't pounding, it had sped up a little - with anticipation? She couldn't quite tell: she'd never ruled that unruly organ, and it seemed intent on picking up speed, little by little, so that it fluttered quick and light as bird's wings against her ribcage. When was the last time her heart had beaten so fast? During a koxi attack, maybe, but that had been out of fear, not this... well... this odd feeling she was experiencing right now.

Still gently smiling, Mizu's eyes grew a little bit vacant even as she spoke, lost in the pursuit of trying to figure out what on Pohono was wrong with her. She knew she'd never been in love (except maybe with baking) but that couldn't be it. Nobody fell in love that quickly. Like, however... she did like I'dou. She was such an interesting person, and adorably awkward but bold at the same time. Awkward was the predominant trait right now, however; the baker could feel the tension radiating off of her. So, although she could have given the rider her space, Mizuko decided to move closer instead, giving I'dou the chance to say no if she wanted. She wouldn't be crushed, after all. She could bake away the hurt if she got rejected, and who would be the wiser?

Laying her head on the rider's shoulder, Mizu immediately felt the other girl tense, and hesitated for a moment. Had she done something wrong? She didn't think so, and even if she had, she wasn't one to admit her mistakes. She didn't withdraw, didn't give I'dou the chance to relax before she put the moves on her. Instead, the baker decided to push her luck, push it as she would never have done with most people. One slender hand sought a stronger one, wrapping around it gently in a small gesture that clearly said 'I want this.'

She could feel I'dou slowly relaxing, but it felt forced, as though she were making herself let go of the tension that gripped her. Rather than calling her out on it, Mizuko leaned on her shoulder, letting her take as long as she needed to slow the quick breathing that even the baker could hear. She waited, quiet, giving, and yet taking away with her own presence, the space that the bluerider seemed to need.

Abruptly, the waiting ended as I'dou's stronger hand squeezed her own, and Mizu lifted her head, returning the silent gesture. When she saw the rider's eyes closed, a thrill of joy raced through her, borne on suddenly hot blood as the baker adjusted herself just a little bit. Just enough to receive the kiss that was, although clumsy, the best thing Mizuko had ever tasted. Her own eyes closed, and she leaned into I'dou, unwilling to pull herself free, and yet doing just that after a second or two. This was due partly to the fact that she couldn't stop herself from smiling; a soft blush had even risen to her cheeks, staining them pink.

Unexpectedly, there were no words to be had when Mizu reached for them. Her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth opened just a little bit as her brain floundered for something to say. But there was nothing to say - nothing she hadn't said when I'dou stole that kiss. Compensating for her inability to speak, the baker squeezed the rider's hand tightly in her own, and then leaned forward, eyes lowering until they closed, and kissed her again. Again she drew away after a few seconds, although she could have stayed there, breathless, wanting more, forever. This was new. This was really new, but how could she possibly fail to like it, with the soft smile on her face breaking up their kisses in the best possible way? And the way her hand squeezed the rider's, almost all on its own, saying 'I like you' without words? For she did like I'dou - she liked her very much, although she didn't dare say it with words. Words made things real, took away the sweet, sweet fantasy of being liked back. If you said the words, other people had to say them back, and they might not be the words you wanted to hear. And yet she did the thing she didn't dare do, tripping over the words as clumsily as I'dou had moved in for that first nervous kiss. "I... I like you, I'dou..."

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