Like a chick to her mother, Quinn followed the Matriarch for almost a fortnight now. Not just to the forest, but to the sick bay, to the center of the temple, to the mess hall, and anywhere else where privacy was not expected.

And while the Matriarch never objects, she certainly has commented on Quinn's desire to follow her on the third day she asked for permission to do the same thing: "Why?"

A fair question from a fair maiden—though I wouldn't have a problem if she was no maiden, "I simply would like to know how the Chapter of the Holy Fire works and operate." So, Quinn also gave a fair answer, though it was only half true and her smile was not exactly sincere due to her own mind's game.

Not privy to Quinn's thoughts and secrets, and having no reason to suspect otherwise: the Matriarch offers no more objections or questions about her purpose after. Despite that, Quinn always makes sure to ask.

Yes, consent is important and all that. But, more than that: she wants the Matriarch to be used to saying yes to her. Not because Quinn believed that would make her always say yes to all of her requests. Rather, she believed it would make the woman try to justify her own actions to herself and endear Quinn to her.

After all, why would you repeatedly say yes to someone's requests unless you like them, or at the very least, find them tolerable? Quinn asked, the question rhetorical to her own mind for the answer's obvious, and so is the result of her not-so-subtle attempt at endearing herself to the Matriarch.

Now, on the twelfth day Quinn asks to accompany her and is allowed to, while in the forest: the Matriarch seems genuinely interested in the conversation, not just listening politely to Quinn's words, perhaps it has something to do with the topic at hand.

It started with: "You're very dedicated to the cause, huh." Quinn comments absentmindedly as she watches the forest for intruders while the Matriarch gathers more herbs, deeper in the forest and further away from camp.

Perhaps it was because of Quinn's absentminded comment. "I am." Whatever it was, the woman does not stop talking today: "I've promised myself I will do it—do this, and spent all my effort on it without pause since I was seven," she continues, passionate about the subject.

It was only by her training that she was able to stop herself from reflexively asking, 'why?'

Instead, she swallowed the word and did what any normal human being would do.

With a chuckle to lighten the mood, she walks closer to the woman. "We're pretty similar on that front, then, Matriarch." And also share a little piece of her.

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And when the woman's bright blue eyes looked straight at her with a glimmer of curiosity, Quinn couldn't help but share more, just to make sure her attention was still on Quinn.

"I made the promise when I was eight, wet with blood that's not my own," she whispers, as if it's a secret.

With each word she whispers, the woman walks closer and closer, until they're but a few inches apart. This close to her, Quinn notices quirks about her that she never noticed before.

She notices that the woman is just a head shorter than her, causing her shadow to fall upon the Matriarch, allowing Quinn to notice another detail. Besides the way her nose is curved in a cute yet elegant way, her eyes are not actually that light of a blue; they only shine from reflected light.

This close, it was a dark blue sea, swirling and swallowing all of Quinn's attention; threatening to drown her.

And despite the fact that she cannot swim, the deal doesn't sound that bad to her, not right now. Not until—"Are you alright?" the low mezzo of the Matriarch's voice awoke her from her trance.

"Hm?" She raises an eyebrow an instant before realizing the tale she just told. "Ah! Yes, yes, I am. It was a long time ago, I am fine now."

"I see. I am glad."

"Thank you for listening, then!"

"Mhm." Comes the quick reply as the woman takes a step back, making Quinn believe she won't reciprocate, Quinn's wrong: "It was not blood that wet me, it was myself," she begins.

Her voice grew lower now, mimicking Quinn's, but not exactly a whisper, it was the tone that was going down, growing somber. "I was... scared. Indecisive, a coward unable to simply make a decision." There was hatred bubbling into her sentence with each word released, as if ejected forcefully from her throat instead of spoken.

Quinn recognizes the self-loathing, the silence that she took right after noticing it, too. Not out of embarrassment. No, she's staying silent while gazing at Quinn, waiting for her judgment.

Yet, Quinn sees no reason to judge her. She wants the woman to trust her enough to be vulnerable, and she does, and Quinn hates it. So instead, she smiles a sympathetic and soothing smile as she once more closes the distance between them, closer this time.

Her right hand—her real hand—hovers above the Matriarch's shoulder, allowing her to see the physical contact Quinn is about to make and move away. When she doesn't, Quinn touches and squeezes her shoulder, softly.

In a voice soft, as if speaking to a child: "But you're not that anymore, are you?" Quinn asked her question. And despite her tone, there's no condescension or condemnation in her question; only sincerity.

Her smile was weak, but encouraging. She's trying to comfort her, as best as she can.

Hearing the diffidence the woman has for herself, the self-disgust was the line for Quinn.

After all, while it is true that she simply wants to bed the woman without serious commitments, she doesn't think the Matriarch deserves all the judgment she holds for herself.

Indeed, while Quinn only knew the woman for less than a fortnight, and didn't even know her name: she has been following her the entire time and has seen her as nothing but noble, as expected of the Matriarch of the Great Mother's Temple.

It seems like forever when she finally replies, but she does: "... I am." In a whisper while looking down, finally embarrassed about the whole affair. "Thank you for listening to me, and accompanying me to the forest again tonight."

"The pleasure is all mine, Matriarch," Quinn quickly replied as she pulled her hand back, surprised by how truthful her words actually were.

Or how happy she was when the woman replied, "Believe me, it's not." With a small and honest smile.