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Freyla II sat motionless on the concrete apron as Fali completed his checks. Mele followed his progress, wheeling behind him as she noted every deliberate movement. Everything he did seemed to have its place - a quiet rhythm, one step flowing neatly into the next.

The morning sun was climbing higher, the air still cool, the clouds thin and promising calm skies. Fali banged the engine cover shut, dusted his hands, and smiled.

“Alright. Ready to go?”

She nodded and followed him to the trailing edge of the right wing. Now came the difficult part - getting her into the cockpit.

She looped her arms around his neck as he slipped his beneath her. Her long skirt caught briefly on the wheelchair’s handlebars before falling free. Her small frame made it easy for him to lift her, vaulting smoothly onto the wing where the cockpit door was already open. He laid her gently into the right seat, careful to settle her legs so they wouldn’t interfere with the rudder bar.

“Comfy?”

She nodded. He smiled, closed the door, and jumped back down. Folding her wheelchair, he stowed it neatly into the tail compartment and locked it shut before climbing into the left seat.

The tang of avgas hung in the still air, the tanks filled and ready. Fali ran through his final checks, flipped the master switch, and made sure Mele’s headset was snug. The aircraft began to hum softly as he primed the engine - a squeak, a twist of the key - and then a cough, another, and a smooth roar as the propeller blurred into motion. The revs spiked briefly, then settled into a steady, confident rhythm.

He keyed his mic.

“Alrighty. It’s about a one and a half hour flight if the weather holds. The real estate agent will meet us when we land. After the tour, we can come straight back. Sound good?”

She’d heard the plan before, but nodded anyway.

“Sounds good.”

He smiled, released the brakes, and the aircraft rocked gently as it began to taxi forward. The hum of the propeller deepened as they made their way to the runway.

Of all the phases of flight, takeoff was always Mele’s favourite. She loved the rush of acceleration, the vibration under her feet, the roar that filled her chest - and then, that exquisite stillness when the wheels finally left the ground.

Soon they were airborne, climbing steadily, the sun glinting off the wings as Freyla II turned toward the coast and the little village with the shop that still seemed too good to be true.

“...and this is the living area. It’s quite small, yes, but plenty of room for a family, should you decide to have one.”

The real estate agent winked at his two guests, doing his best to hide the tremor in his voice. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d watched their small aircraft touch down at the local aerodrome. Two of the most famous people in the country - perhaps even the world - and here he was, showing them around a modest seaside shop. It was beyond his wildest dreams.

The moment he’d received the inquiry, he’d rushed to inform the current owners. They’d immediately gone to work making the place shine: spotless floors, fresh paint, even flowers by the window. They’d also agreed to lower the minimum asking price, with no haggling. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned that last part to the Reaper’s Songstress or the Airborne Warrior yet. First, he had to convince them this was the right place.

That part, however, seemed easy. Their eyes lingered on every corner, every small imperfection, with a kind of wistful curiosity. He could practically see them picturing furniture already. It was a wonder they weren’t married yet, if the tabloids were to be believed.

He gave them the benefit of the doubt, keeping his professionalism intact as he guided them through each room, answering questions and noting their quiet exchanges.

When the tour finally ended, the three of them stood - or in the Songstress's case, sat - by the empty shop entrance. Dust motes drifted through the sunlight as the two visitors smiled at each other - soft, private smiles that said everything.

One glance between them, and an unspoken agreement passed.

To his surprise, the Songstress spoke first.

“We’ll take it. At full price.”

The words caught him off guard, but years of experience kept his composure steady.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll let the owner know. When do you want to move in?”

She shrugged - a gesture made all the more dramatic by the movement of her wheelchair.

“Not sure. We’ll get back to you once they accept the offer.”

He grinned.

“Oh, believe me, they’ll accept it all right. But I understand. Are you staying nearby?”

She shook her head.

“Nowhere near.”

He blinked, then gave a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, of course. You flew in. Do you need a lift back to the aerodrome?”

She smiled up at the Airborne Warrior, who smiled back, both sharing a look that made the agent feel like he’d just intruded on something deeply personal.

“No thanks,” she said softly. “We have plans.”

He nodded, tapping away on his phone to send the offer through.

“Alright then. Well, thank you for coming. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

And just like that, they were gone. The two living legends stepped out into the sunlight, and the agent finally let himself exhale. His knees wobbled with relief. That had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience - one he’d no doubt tell stories about for years.

At least, he would have - until the email arrived a few minutes later.

A polite but firm message from the Songstress’s manager.

It seemed, despite her quiet life now, the machinery behind her was still very much in play.

“Exciting, isn’t it?”

Fali nodded as he pushed Mele’s wheelchair down the quiet village street. The air carried a faint aroma of salt and seaweed, mingling with the comforting scent of freshly baked bread wafting from a nearby bakery. The sun hung high overhead, marking the start of a perfect afternoon.

“Yeah,” he said softly, smiling. “It really is.”

She turned her head toward him, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Ever owned your own house before?”

He chuckled. “No. Only ever rented.”

“Me too,” she said, eyes glimmering with amusement. “So we’re both going in blind, then.”

“I suppose we are.”

She sighed happily and looked ahead again, watching the easy rhythm of village life pass by - neighbors chatting outside doorways, a cat basking in the sunlight, a bicycle leaning against a lamppost. Everything felt simple here. Warm.

“It would be so much better if we were married,” she said suddenly.

Fali’s heart stumbled. He froze for half a second before she turned to him again, laughter sparkling in her eyes.

“I’m joking. Can’t rush these things, y’know?”

He forced a chuckle, doing his best to hide the flush creeping up his neck. Inside, though, his thoughts drifted to the jeweler’s estimate - a wait longer than he’d hoped for. But it had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect. And so he’d wait.

They reached the small bus stop at the end of the street, sitting together in comfortable silence until the bus arrived. The ride back to the airfield was short, the rhythm of the engine and the gentle sway of the vehicle lulling them both into thought.