summary: in life, it's the little things that matter. 50 facts of molly and wizard's relationship.
notes: written for the 1sentence epsilon theme set. this was really, really enjoyable to write. when i find more ideas i'll make more of these.
It’s all a bit too confusing to him, really, when Molly breaks hours of silence and quietness with the enthusiastic motion of her hands and the excited tone of her voice as she describes her adventures of aiding a cow give birth.
The air inside his house is cool and crisp, unbelievably so, when Molly takes cover from the summer sun on the back of her neck.
Sometimes Gale can’t help but be surprised at what Molly manages to tell him: things about love, life, trust and things more mysterious than the magic and the stars he studies so much, things that go so much beyond the woman’s young age.
He knows he’s not the first to be at the center of Molly’s attention—he’s seen the smiles and the presents and even the kisses exchanged in between the chores, and if none of these are an indication, the fact that she’s ran to him to know which present was best for one or other boy is—but he certainly hopes he is the last.
Molly can’t actually believe how wrong she was to think that immersing herself in the mechanical tasks around her farm would keep her mind too busy to project what it’ll be like when she finally shows Gale the blue feather she’s climbed the mountain for.
The Wizard’s voice is surprisingly gentle when he teaches her to read the same foreign runes he does frequently, even as she trips down on the same sound that’s been thwarting her learning process.
After she first experiences death of one of her animals, Molly walks up to him in house, whispering, “I know this is silly and that I shouldn’t be this sad for a cow and that you’re not good with words, but please just say anything, even if just one word.”
Even after all these years together, they still enjoy stargazing on top of the hill in Flute Fields at winter nights.
The night before she goes to summon the Harvest King on top of the mountain, he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of her and what they’ve worked together to get there.
With the self-assurance that comes only from youth, Molly thinks she knows all that there is to know about the soil, how everything grows and how the island works; she only realizes how much she has left to learn when she actually sits awake with him for one night, listening to him talk about the stars and their mysteries and lulling her into half-slumber against his shoulder.
Even if all they can see through the window is just a white blur, the first winter storm they endure after their wedding is spend cuddled on the couch while they watch taped episodes of the Goddess Squadron Sprite Rangers.
When he waits for her in front of the church, he can’t help but look up to the bright stars above him as he thinks up ways of satisfying the restless butterflies fluttering about in his stomach.
He’s not lived as long as the Harvest King or the Goddess, but he’s lived long enough to feel the abrupt change she starts when arriving at the island and trying to fix the problems no one has succeeded to solve so far; he can’t help but wish her success.
It’s not so much a command as it is a request when, half giggling, Molly asks, “Please stop squirming, your braid’s tickling my neck.”
Years of studying and countless book pages turned couldn’t explain the nervous flip-flop his heart made in his chest when, in the middle of coughing, she got a hold of his coat and asked him to stay.
It’s not long from meeting her that she feels his every day with a need so consuming he can’t help but sigh.
It comes to a time that the single possibility of having the knowledge of what Molly loves the most, how she feels about him and everything else at his fingertips is just too much to bear, so he resorts to cover the crystal ball with a heavy flannel quilt.
Even if it’s only as little as ten minutes of her time, the moments she spends from the Wizard’s door inside are for him only, and she can’t help but feel satisfied as she gives him the attention she knows no one else has.
She throws a sideways glance at the crystal ball and wonders why it can’t simply read his heart and soul too.
Kept amidst all of Wizard’s books cluttered on the tables, there is a photo of theirs from a festival, permanently creased and folded and with the corners weary from too much tucking in the pocket and longing stares.
She can’t stop giggling when they’re awkwardly dancing in her house after their quasi-clandestine wedding ceremony when the words “I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you,” come out from the singer’s lips.
Finn is mad, so mad, when Molly risks violent winds just to go out and give the Wizard the cup of coffee she believes he needs now more than ever.
Gale really doesn’t know what to think or feel apart from the smile spreading his lips when she hands him their blanket-bundled baby and he starts to hold on to his finger.
It all sums up to this moment, really, especially when most what he remembers from before are the Goddess’ chants echoing throughout the island.
When Summer nears its end and the shadows grow longer and thinner, Molly knows it’s time for Gale to start looking at the kinds of star that only come out once the nights grow longer than the cold days.
He understands many things, from the arch drawn by the stars in the night sky to the mysteries of this island they’re living in, but for some reason Gale can’t explain the feeling of loss of something he’s never had when she tells him goodbye and goes back to work.
One afternoon, Molly seems to find plenty to entertain herself with when playing with the Wizard’s coat, giggling, “See, I’ve found somewhere to hide next time I find Hamilton!”
When Molly finally remembers that the Wizard did mention that the villagers call him Fortuneteller and she asks him about his services as such, she can’t help but feel disappointed that he can’t read his own heart.
It’s unbelievably strange how this girl has him going out his safe little comfort zone so often.
The night she finds Tom the ghost by the graveyard, Molly comes to him with the excuse that she keeps on feeling an eerie presence watching her from somewhere.
That day, Molly feels incredibly chipper when she leaves the Wizard’s house with a book under her arm, thinking, ‘Now I’m the owner of a book, and it was given to me by him,’ and she can’t help but promise to herself that she won’t even let a page fold by accident and that she’ll always keep a bookmark by her side so there won’t be any dog-eared pages.
Sometimes Molly takes it to counting the time she lasts in a conversation before she stares into his yellow eye, and then the green eye, losing whatever focus she may have.
When confessing things to him when they talk about dreams, Molly once whispers, “I just wish this could be over, you know?, I never did things like the other girls do—I never even kissed a boy.”
Molly’s voice is not one made for singing, but Gale enjoys listening to her sing the silliest of songs as she tends to her plants.
It’s really strange, how one moment he thinks only about stars and coffee, and the next all he can bring up to his memory is the scent of Molly’s hair when she pulled herself against him in an embrace.
“I know I risk sounding a bit too cheesy, but sometimes I really feel like time stops when I’m with you,” Molly says, already a bit tipsy from a sip and a whiff from her glass of wine.
Together they lie under the stars in silence and, for those moments, time can only be measured by the slow compass they shine to.
He can’t help but feel very grateful and a little bit overwhelmed when during the summer she offers to travel with him to the stream that lazily seeps by her farms to help him deal with the washing of his many robes; later, under the foreign light of the sun, he can’t help but stare at her and listen to her laughter.
For a moment, Molly’s really, really torn between making incomprehensible noises of cuteness and hugging the Wizard when he holds out the most whimsical cake she’s seen for Harmony day.
Sometimes in the middle of whispered conversations, Gale will stop speaking his broken strings of words, especially when they talk about his past which he can’t really remember.
Outside Castanet, Molly’s never thought herself as someone with power to accomplish anything, so much for saving an entire island filled with people counting on her and her efforts.
It’s strange how in the beginning, Molly would feel unbelievably awkward when visiting the Wizard, afraid that she might bother him when he’s dealing with matters much above her comprehension, with her daily gift of a cup of coffee no matter how honest his smile was.
He’s lived long, too long for the standards of men, so much that it shows through his eyes, but not quite enough to be considered a divinity like the Harvest King and, for a moment, Gale can’t help but feel a little bit powerless when he feels that the King is about to wake up as called by Molly.
He feels Molly’s growing baby-bump against his back as she wraps her arms around him and muses, “I wonder which color he’s going to like so I can finally decide a paint color.”
The first time he sees her naked—it really isn’t a time to count, since all he sees is the ceiling—the second, he stares before he realizes what he’s looking at and his face is surely painted red; the third time, he knows he’s looking at someone truly precious.
No matter how much the Wizard seems to have eyes for the stars only, Molly will always have the drive and the will to try to make it otherwise.
When he silently wraps white linen bandages around her calf, careful so that the wound won’t open once more, Molly can’t help but excuse herself with a, “I didn’t know this place was getting so bad, the forest animals were never harmful to me.”
Molly feels like she is incredibly precious each time Gale smiles at her and takes her into his arms whenever she whispers his name in his ear.
Molly quickly admits to looking forward to meals, especially those from the Brass Bar since she’s not to be trusted with a kitchen; that time, Gale feels too coy to reply that he always looks forward to the time she comes by with coffee in hand.
Soon, Molly decides it’s quite difficult to believe in the things she’s done, such as speaking with fairy-like spirits and meeting deities, but she can’t help but feel that when she talks about the task placed upon her, Wizard’s gaze is nothing but honest and non-judgmental.