Darling & Commander

The General: 19

Brock Cortes POV:

"Chai tea?" I murmur at the mention of our little project we had not finished from when we first met.

"Yes, I have a lovely friend I was hoping you may be willing to meet while collecting ingredients. Perhaps you can accompany a damsel such as myself to the marketplace for ingredients before you make haste to return to Hirenth?" Galla winks, a beautiful flush in her cheeks from the dawn leaking past her curtains and into the cabin.

"Oh? What is this lovely friend's name?" I conspire.

"His name is Tyson, and Oh, Brock, he is the kindest human I have ever met! Always taking his time to help me with my exploits, and telling me stories of where my teacups originated from, he is credibly sweet! You must come and meet him, he will be overjoyed to hear I am not alone in my sector any longer." She gushes, and I believe a cross expression finds its way onto my features.

"How old is Tyson?" My covetousness around this female will eventually turn me to a green eyed monster.

"He is twenty five." Galla beams, not understanding my hesitance as she crochets strawberry print sweaters on the edge of the bed.

She is as pure as diamond, and while it is winsome and agreeable in the sense, the woman is also quite naive and candid. I am pestered every night by the thought of her falling into a trap alike a turtle consuming plastic unassumingly.

"Darling..." I scrape my hands through my thick locks. "I discern that you do not have many allyships, but are you unequivocal that he is not..."

"Not what, commander?" She scoffs. "Are you presupposing my lonesomeness?"

I let the deep grumble leak out, and shake my head.

"Pay no heed of what I was to say moments before. Let us meet this Tyson, then." I agree with a wave of my hand, a tad like I am disregarding the subject.

"Do not be compelled to agree for me... If you truly insist on returning at the very moment, I shall not stop you." Her eyes go wide, staring down at her intertwined fingers anxiously.

Lord. Galla makes me a ignoramus.

She also makes me feel so much more than anyone else ever has.

"Oh, all right, I apologize." I lament, kneeling in front of her facetiously. "I am being discourteous, politeness should be the only thing towards any friend of yours. I am positive he is wonderful; just do us equally a favor and overlook my negativity."

I take each of her enamel sculpted hands and brush my lips to them, ceasing to tear the traction between our line of vision. Her lashes flutter, and I chuckle, chin declining into her lap with a pout. 

"Oh, Brock..." She sighs, depleted but pressing a sweet kiss to my temple.

"Galla..." I reciprocate with a taunting trailing along her calf.

"To the market!" She waves me off of her, flustered and ruffled.

"As you wish, my darling." I snort in cachinnation, sheathing her in a warm cloak.

"Thank you, commander."

⚔️⚔️⚔️

"Ah, Gallaleigha!" 

Tyson proved to be a seven foot tall orc with tusks and monumental brawn. His tawny auburn eyes searched mine as the August sun lustered off of the lime chartreuse flesh threatening to rupture due to his sinew. He greeted Galla in a innate embrace, ladling her off of those tiny feet as her yelps of gaiety made others heads swivel in our direction.

I remain gracelessly to the side, unsure of where I stand in this ploy. When this jade skinned brute at long last released her, Galla immediately adhered herself to my arm.

Good. All in the universe is still in order.

She tugs me up to him, and Tyson gives me a earnestly obvious once over, scowling as he does so. I decide to be the bigger person, and offer him my palm which he accepts with his own, calloused and gruff.

"I am Brock. Brock Cortes." I give him a small crack of a grin. "Nice to meet you. Tyson, correct?"

The orc's face immediately lightens, and he beams down at me with his smile seeming to coruscate through the entire marketplace.

"Yes, that is I. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cortes. I should hope you intend on making good to my sweet friend?" He raises a thick black eyebrow, and I give him a reassuring nod at the sight of his daunting total of piercings.

"Indeed. She is more than sweet." I peer down at Galla, who is leaned forward to examine the china and silverware assembled afront Tyson's booth. 

He must be the closest thing I have ever seen to a bull in a china shop, with his devotion to carrying these glass wares across the kingdoms.

"I will be at the back, Gallaleigha, inform me if you desire to know of the origins of my goods." He gives her a polite smile, and she glows back at him before he disappears into the tent rear to the booth.

"See anything you fancy, darling?" I murmur in her ear as she peruses the rim of a ceramic teacup. 

"This is beautiful..." Galla muses in absolute awe, colors reflected in her glassed over eyes.

There are flower petals meticulously illustrated along the edges, and the glass itself looks as though it is made of the purest of crystals. Galla checks the tab revealing the price, and fuchsias when returning it to the position on the table.

"Whatever is the matter?" I touch her burning shoulder.

"It is far overpriced." She shakes her head, uneasily scratching her neck. "I am to use the restroom. I will be back shortly."

Without allowing me in a word, she departs with a ruddy face.

I do not understand why she would be bashful as such a thing as the lack of money for a teacup, but I also suppose I do not understand many of the things she does.

"Fancy her, do you not?"

I pivot on my heel to face Tyson, as the saliva catches sunlight on the tip of his tusk. He gives me a easy smile, and I immediately experience my tightness fading away.

"I do not deserve her..." I sigh, gravelly sound catching as my voice wavers.

"You thinking that, Cortes, proves that you really do have a chance." He nods, loose tendrils of his midnight black locks falling forth. "Although you are probably correct. I would not beat yourself up over the fact, but I do not believe anyone is good enough for that woman."

He is indefinitely accurate.

"Just- what I am attempting to communicate- alright." Tyson begins again, cracking his neck like the porcelain crystalware he vends. "Gallaleigha is sweet, and pure, and innocent. But she has also been taken advantage of before. Harmed, and damaged, and injured with no one to consult in. I know she has no Genites to spare, but she purchases something from my shop every time to help me out anyways. And in return, I tell her stories, listen to her in attempts to preserve this aura she has. We are close. I do not want you to be similar to those other dunces that came around, so please be finer, superior."

This startles me. 

Not only shock, but also anger.

Who would hurt her?

My darling?