Darling & Commander

The General: 3

Brock Cortes POV:

My thick soled boots crunch on the ground as I rise from the table in Galla's hut, my head brushing against the ceiling as I do. This cabin was clearly made for a smaller person such as herself, and I have trouble walking in my cramped six foot four body. Nevertheless, I make it out, and Galla stares at my attire disapprovingly.

"What?" I bark out, and wince at the tone when she remains unfazed.

"These shoes will not do." She shakes her head, dropping to her knees and beginning to untether my trekking boots.

"Why?" I say, not moving but trusting her procedure.

"You will walk barefoot, on my land. These boots will hurt the soft meadows." She rises after throwing the boots aside, studying the rest of me.

"And now?" I raise a brow.

"These coats. Nope." She shakes her head, removing my attire until I am left with my white T-shirt and jeans.

"Should I ask?"

"They are all made of animal skins and fur. I do not want to upset my creatures." Galla shakes her head, long eyelashes fluttering as she tosses the clothes into the hut, bringing out a basket when she emerges. "Now we are prepared."

"Good." I say firmly but awkwardly, unsure of what our next order of business would be.

"Be a gentleman." Galla pokes my muscular arm. "We are promenading, are we not?"

"Right." I rasp, realizing what it is she wants and offering my arm to her.

She beams up at me, latching on, before tugging me down a pathway in through the woods.

It is mesmerizing how badly you become needing of her smiles. Although she bestows them frequently, it is rare for her grins to be awarded to a person specifically. It is special when you receive one, and it almost brings on a soft expression of my own.

"Right up here!" She exclaims, and excitedly presents a shrub with yellow white flowers flourishing in our gazes. 

I stand back as she begins to pluck the leaves softly, murmuring each time the act is settled.

"What are you whispering?" My gravelly voice is an ugly disruption to her sweet nothings she says under her breath, but my spirit of inquiry arose in me.

Galla's back straightens as she feels my warmth approaching her backside, and I let out a soft chuckle.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to impede." I slink back before she pulls me closer to the tree.

"I was apologizing." She nods.

"Apologizing?" Her words hit me like a brick. 

"And showing gratitude." She smiles at the tree, another one of those far away expressions crossing her face.

Selfishly, I want to yank her mind back to this planet, dig deep into her soul to find what she rambles on about so endearingly. Grip her here, not to let go.

"Gratitude?" I chortle throatily. "What could you thank? It's a tree."

Galla turns around, face etched into an expression of remorse and almost... pity. 

"What?" I demand harsher than I aim. "What is that shameful expression?"

"Not quite pity, just... be careful what you say. They can hear you." She shakes her head, still looking ashamed of my words.

"Hear me? They are plants, Galla." I cock my head to the side.

"They are plants, yes, Brock, but they are also spirits." She scolds.

"Very well. And they are upset with the way I dismissed them, I assume?" I smirk a little, the sarcasm very conspicuous off of my cruel tongue.

"They are not the only ones." Galla stamps her foot against the ground a little, and a small titter escapes my lips at the adorable gesture. "What!? I am not misleading you, Brock. These creatures can all hear you. Do not mistake my kindness entirely for personality. I have enough substance to possess feelings of my own."

I immediately feel remorse for causing the creases between her eyebrows, and slick my fingers through my hair agonizingly.

"I- I am sorry, I did not realize this was all-"

"Incredibly important to me? Do not look down on me because my persona is entirely petals without thorns. They will come out when I need them to." She interrupts me, not angered, but moreover disheartened at my attitude.

"Galla. I was wrong, I am sorry. I do not understand, but I will not insult you again." I graze my thumb over her silken cheeks. "Do not look at me like that, please. You're right, it was negligent and I should be punished."

"Look at you like what?" She peers up at me with the dispirited vehemence lingering in her breathtaking eyes.

"Like I am just the same as every other fool you've come across. I may be an imbecile at times, but I know when I am mistaken." I plead, hard voice softening for her. "I am no dullard."

"I recognize this, Brock." Something twinkles in her eye. "A punishment, you say?"

"Have I made a mistake?" I groan, but covertly want her aura to stay this enlightened.

"Rest assured, I will make this easy on you. I am quite forgiving." She winks, causing me forget to breathe for a moment.

"And I am not surprised." I guffaw, stepping back when she comes closer.

"Come to the market with me." Galla inspects the leaves in her basket. "I am in need of sugar and milk in order to complete my chai tea recipe. Accompany a damsel?"

Her offer stands before me, appealing and daring me to reach out, but my default nature resists. A bastard like me could not escort this light footed godsend  of a saint. My bloodied hands would tarnish her porcelain skin.

"Galla. I cannot offer you more than pitiable companionship. You have already coddled me enough. I should really scout the land and be on my way." I shake my head, the burnt umber locks falling forward.

Without warning, her fingers are slipping through them, and I recoil suddenly.

"What are you doing?" I go frigid when her hands are pulled away from my head.

"Sit, Brock." Galla orders, and I hesitate. "Punishment, do you recall?"

I stifle the chuckle that finds its way through my chest, chastising myself for letting my guard down so easily around the soft spoken nymph. Following her directions, I take a seat with my legs crossed on the plush moss, looking up at the spatter of freckles across Galla's cheeks and shoulders.

Angel.