fic: when the moon is high
title: when the moon is high
rating: pg
prompt: #11 ~ saturday night's all right
pairing: gill/molly
summary: he constantly thinks of her, how she is the only girl he knows who looks pretty in her farming attire, her nails specked with dirt and her hair knotted by the wind.
notes: yes, i wrote harvest moon fic and i'm proud. now let's see if i can keep this up after i've dealt with other projects. for the drabble123 challenge.
when the moon is high
He constantly thinks of her, how she is the only girl he knows who looks pretty in her farming attire, her nails specked with dirt and her hair knotted by the wind. The girl who constantly passes by him as she climbs up the stairs to the Church and gives him presents day after day and listens to his never changing rants about how Castanet’s falling apart. The girl with cheeks burnt by the sun, but still smiles at him anyway, tipping her head to the side. Because she’s doing his job, saving his island; that’s his duty.
Gill feels fortune on his side. After weeks and maybe a season, he thinks he’ll manage. Today will be a good day, he tells himself.
He stutters, really, he shouldn’t-not a man his status, but she’s staring at him; and she’s pretty. She’s so pretty. “I-I’ve been meaning to ask you this for some time now, but you’re very kind and I’ll be dining at the Brass Bar and you might want to join me-”
Molly smiles and tugs on her shirt. “Saturday night’s all right,” she tells him softly and leans on one hip.
Yes, a good evening.
rating: pg
prompt: #11 ~ saturday night's all right
pairing: gill/molly
summary: he constantly thinks of her, how she is the only girl he knows who looks pretty in her farming attire, her nails specked with dirt and her hair knotted by the wind.
notes: yes, i wrote harvest moon fic and i'm proud. now let's see if i can keep this up after i've dealt with other projects. for the drabble123 challenge.
when the moon is high
He constantly thinks of her, how she is the only girl he knows who looks pretty in her farming attire, her nails specked with dirt and her hair knotted by the wind. The girl who constantly passes by him as she climbs up the stairs to the Church and gives him presents day after day and listens to his never changing rants about how Castanet’s falling apart. The girl with cheeks burnt by the sun, but still smiles at him anyway, tipping her head to the side. Because she’s doing his job, saving his island; that’s his duty.
Gill feels fortune on his side. After weeks and maybe a season, he thinks he’ll manage. Today will be a good day, he tells himself.
He stutters, really, he shouldn’t-not a man his status, but she’s staring at him; and she’s pretty. She’s so pretty. “I-I’ve been meaning to ask you this for some time now, but you’re very kind and I’ll be dining at the Brass Bar and you might want to join me-”
Molly smiles and tugs on her shirt. “Saturday night’s all right,” she tells him softly and leans on one hip.
Yes, a good evening.