Unlinked Bits

Chapter 1: Conscience

"Hey, don't you find it funny?"

"What?"

"The fact that we were based off Pokemons and now we're, you know, this." He pointed at himself, his golden slit eyes running over him as if  his own appearance surprised him.

"I find it more amusing that the only part salvaged from the characters that we were once inspired from is our relationship." She flashed that characteristic smile of hers, that characteristic smile of the fae folk even after she had tried to stray away from them. "Though I'd say that the antennae are kind of excessive" She reached her hand above her pastel pink locks to touch the said protrusions of her head, thoughtful.

"I like them," He nonchalantly said, "I like how they glow when your cheeks are flushed pink and you try to bite back the smile forming on your lips." He teased as she did what he just described. "Or when you're doing that magic of yours when we fight stuff." He made a gesture of opening his palms while moving his arms outwards. "Fwoosh, fwoosh, everything is crushed to dust." Then laughed, it was a nice sincere laugh, rare from him. "Though I can't decide if I like you better with long hair or with this cute pixie cut that you're rocking right now, do you thing that the Creator did it on purpose? You know, giving you a pixie cut?"

"Knowing her, heh, probably. She could have at least tried to be more original with me. Thought I must say that I've never seen you with short hair..." Her emerald green eyes glittered in mischief.

"You're not cutting my hair, no way!" He lightly pushed her, earning a snicker from her. "But I must confess that it would've been cool to have red hair. Just imagine, a dryad with red hair, not regular red, blood red." He contemplated his olive green hair. "It would sure fit the whole 'dragon blood dryad', coming from the dragon blood tree, don't you think?"

She lightly scraped the dark crimson scar on his tan skin. "I think these 'war trophies' are enough to prove that you're a dragon blood tree dryad."

He groaned at the mention of his 'war trophies', it made the whole blending in with the rest thing more difficult, not like his long, knee-length, braided mane helped much in it. "Why do you keep calling them that?! It was years ago that I said that! It's embarrassing!" He exasperated with his face buried in his hands.

"Because I'm your partner, dork. We're married, sort of." She affectionatedly kissed his cheek, causing him to blush a little.

"Yeah, yeah, your Highness. Whatever you say." He muttered. "Lucky you that scars don't pop as much on that fair skin of yours."

"Hey! I'm not that pale! Besides, the subtle freckes do the job for me."

"And I love them, my little porcelain doll, yes, you are that pale; put some sunscreen the next time we head to somewhere warm, I'm done with hearing you whine about sunburns." He stood from the grass patch that he was sitting on, stretching his sore muscles.

"You're not that much taller either." She yanked at his hand to pull herself up, making him stumble backwards.

"I'm 7 inches taller, 18 centimetres more than you." He jokingly taunted.

"As I said, not much taller." She ignored his taunting. "I swear that I'll see you with your hair short, even if that's the last thing I do before I die." She smiled maliciously.

Squinting his eyes and hissing defensively, "Never." he vowed knowing that he'll end up conceiving. He did think of cutting his hair off but not right now.