@waywardswordsman

✖- It wasn’t all the time, but certainly, most of the time Zoro was fairly certain he drove Monet crazy. As a calm intellectual, she was the swordsman’s opposite in many ways. On more than one occasion he had caught her rolling his eyes as he bickered with the ghost girl. On some level, however, his fellow in green locks recognized that Perona brought out his more childish antics, because when the two were alone she seemed content to enjoy his quiet company. On occasion, she would even sit near him, cozy with one of her books while the swordsman drank or meditated.

This evening was one of those, the air was cold in the always drafty castle and the two were seated in the main drawing room. Monet, never seemed to mind the cold, but it almost seemed as if she had been drifting unconsciously closer, as if his body heat were a gravitational pull. Quite suddenly, the woman fell slump against him and by her slow exhales he knew at once she had fallen asleep.

She looked so peaceful in her slumber, and to no one but himself he had to admit, her long tresses laid against the bare skin of his arm were soft and quite nice. Blinking upon the situation, he smiled slightly, and returned his attention back to meditating as she slept.

       It had been something she had quickly noticed. Zoro’s skin was warmer than what was supposed to be normal, not to the point in which it would make her wonder if he was sick, but certainly to the point of other’s noticing. After all, Monet was always aware of the temperature changes around her. 

The pinkette had asked him a while ago if he was getting sick, but that question had only brought an annoying amount of noise to her ears. Those two couldn’t be in a room without arguing, and thus Monet, whenever the ghost girl appeared, she preferred to ignore them- or to simply leave the room. 

However, it was true. Zoro’s body was a source of heat and she felt oddly drawn towards that warmth. The swordsman was warm in the way being close to the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket and drinking a hot cocoa felt. A kind of warmth he hadn’t experienced in more than a decade. His warmth felt cozy, that much so that she ended up falling asleep against his broad shoulder.

Monet couldn’t tell for how long she slept, lost in her slumber, enjoying the warmth and the scent of the swordsman. At some point the book she had been holding slid to the floor and her eyes fluttered open. 

A light blush spread through her cheeks when she realized that she had been sleeping against Zoro’s arm. 

— ❝ I’m sorry, I fell asleep.❞