Noire breathes in deeply, pressing the hibiscus against her nose. Orange petals release the scent of a dream fondly remembered, but hard to recall. It's sweet and earthy, the ambiguous dream and the smell both. She exhales with her eyes closed, trying to capture that dream in her mind's eye. Nothing happens. The rhythm of waves against the shore eases herself out of any semblance of concentration as she reclines into her beach chair.

Her wooden longbow, resting on her lap, nearly falls onto the sand below. But her hands move faster than her eyes can see, and in one fluid motion she grabs the bow by the handle and nocks the flower stem onto its string. Alarms ring in her head and she bears a wild, desperate eye down the sight of her bow. And she finds nothing but the sparkling blue ocean and the shade of her umbrella over beach sand.

She snaps out of it all and sighs in relief.

With the bow safely returned to her lap and the flower pressed against her nose again, Noire settles back onto recalling her dream, or was it a memory? Either is fine, whatever quells her nagging anxiety.

Meanwhile, further down the beach, someone is drawing line in the sand with a stick. Wavy, squiggly, graceful lines are scored into the semi wet sand as far as the eye can see. One can't quite make out a pattern at a first glance, but then you notice a trail of bare feet weaving through it all. Follow it, and the shapes appear clearer. A pair of stick figures, a dense spiral, a frog, the words 'hello world' written in balloon letters, a cartoon portrait of a girl with short hair and an infectious smile. Standing at the end of it all, where the lines dishevel into aimless chaos, is Morgan, standing triumphantly over her work, basking in the glorious fatigue and the summer sun overhead, her sole witness.

She quite holding the victory pose and giggles. "I should show this to Noire!"

The sleeping archer in question jumps at the sound of Morgan's giant stick dragging across the beach. "VERMIN APPROACHING!" she bellows, scrambling out of her chair. Sand falls from her short brunette hair.

"Wait! It's me!" Morgan yelps, dropping the stick in her hand.

"Oh!" Noire gasps. "Morgan!"

"Rats, I woke you up." Morgan replies, a shadow of regret crossing her face. "Sorry."

Noire bunches up her hands, her mouth masked by the hibiscus. "Don't be worried" she says. Her words come out strained, as if holding something back, something dark and wrathful. "I'm fine! Just enjoying the shade. You know."

Morgan's eyes light up at the sight of Noire's flower. "Woah! Lemme smell!"

Morgan zooms in like a kite gliding on wind. And before Noire knows it, the tactician's nose is pressed against her flower for an indulgent sniff. The tactician closes her eyes while she leans in precariously close to Noire's face, pressing the flower against Noire's trembling lips.

"M-Morgan?" Noire whispers. Her breath tickles Morgan's skin.

"Yes, Noire?" replies Morgan, blissfully unaware.

"You're very close right now."

Indeed, Morgan realizes when she opens her eyes, this is a very awkward position, leaning over Noire's resting body, so close that her heaving chest almost touches hers.

Instead of pushing her away, Noire wraps her arms around and pulls Morgan in for a hug. It's Morgan's turn to be taken by surprise, and Noire's turn to be impulsive. The hibiscus is gone too, and their lips touch as gently as the waves lap over the shore. "Stay with me in the shade" Noire pleads as she nuzzles her forehead on Morgan's.

Happy to share a rare moment of intimacy with Noire, Morgan nevertheless has another idea. "After I show you something cool I made?" she posits.

Noire lets go and tilts her head. She takes a moment to deliberate. "W-well, alright."

Later, they're side by side in front of Morgan's exhibit of giant scribbles. "You were busy while I was asleep" Noire says, awestruck.

Morgan nods. "I was trying to remember something about mother, and this was the result."

"I read in a book that scents evoke the strongest memories." Noire ruminates with a finger on her chin. "If you'd like, maybe we can explore the beach some more before returning to the fight?"

A dragon's roar shakes the earth. Noire jumps a little, but Morgan pays no heed.

"That sounds wonderful!" Morgan chides playfully. "Where should we go first?"

Noire points towards the trees before them, a dense forest of deep green. "There's a grove over where I was resting. And it's nice and shady."

Morgan is already leaping across the sand in a whirlwind of joy. "Oh, let's go! Memories, here I come!"

"Wait! WAIT, YOU!" Noire's eyes darken, and she yells after her, "These DAMNABLE STRAPS don't hold up when I run!"

The sun disappears behind the canopy as her feet tread over dirt and roots, searching for the grove. The sound of the ocean became muffled by the lush vegetation. Salty sea air mixed with the fresh scent of leaves. Morgan's eyes had to adjust to the shade. Finally, after circling around a tree twice and getting lost, did Morgan find a small clearing.

A ruined beach shack stands in the middle as monument to its presumably long-gone inhabitants. Morgan saw black streaks crowning the two windowsills, telling of minor fire damage. Besides that, the sun-bleached grey of the naked wood exterior sends shivers down Morgan's spine despite the heat.

In front of this shack was the hibiscus grove, growing out of the charred remains of a garden. Morgan carefully walks over and feels a soft orange petal on her fingers, brings her nose to it and inhales.

She takes a step back bumping into Noire approaching from behind. Noire promptly screams as they collide. They both jump and stagger back. "MORGAN!" Noire screams in panic. She adjusts the strap on her bikini top, panting excitedly. "Oh goodness, sorry!"

"No worries!" Morgan says. "You're safe."

Noire sticks to Morgan's side like glue, sheepishly sliding over. "That I am. Thank you."

They take a moment to regard the sunset colored flowers. "Relaxing, isn't it?" Noire muses, inching closer to Morgan's shoulder.

Morgan nods. "Yes, but I didn't quite remember anything about mother."

"Maybe we should move on and find another spot to jog your memory. Someplace special."

A sultry eye, a mischievous smile, and Morgan turns up the heat. "No, I think we've found a very special place right here."

Morgan steals a kiss. Noire yields to it.

"These flowers are growing from ashes." Morgan whispers tenderly into Noire's ear. "They remind me of you. Out of such a tragedy, look what beautiful things grew." She licks her earlobe, eliciting a pleasurable squeal from Noire.

"Such…" she kisses her neck. "A pretty…" Noire closes her eyes, sinking into a sweet, earthy feeling, the one she was searching for on the beach. Morgan bends her legs down to meet Noire's special place at eye level, moves in for a kiss. "...Flower. Like this one."

Suddenly, another dragon's roar. Their little tryst would have to wait, Morgan the tactician realizes. "Oh bother. We'll be needed soon." She sighs, effortlessly back in focus.

Noire was sweating profusely, mewling in anticipation just now scorned. This was the dream, Noire laments to herself, she wanted so badly to remember on the beach. Perhaps, it will have to remain a dream for a while longer. They leave the forest hand in hand, passing by many coconut trees along the way.