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“Grr… Wretched mortal paints…”
Grima grimaces as he regards the spring-festival egg in front of him. Despite his best efforts, the mess of color on the shell can hardly be called “art.” Maybe if his hands weren’t stuck in ridiculous paw gloves, his work wouldn’t have come out so much like an infant’s first attempt at fingerpainting… but alas, this is what happens when a wolf is invited to a spring festival. Disaster.
He glowers. He ought to just smash it to bits.
Before he can destroy his terrible handiwork, however, a voice calls out to him.
“Hey, Grima!” Kiran waves excitedly to him as they approach. “Ooh, are you painting eggs for the festival? I knew once you went to the harvest festival, you’d be totally hooked on holidays!”
“N-No!” Grima protests. “I care nothing for any of these human frivolities! As for this egg… It isn’t for the festival…”
“It’s not? You mean, you’re making it as a gift for someone?” Kiran tilts their head in confusion, but it only takes an instant for a grin to spread across their face. “Wait, don’t tell me—”
“It’s not a gift,” Grima insists. “It’s merely a… replacement for something that got destroyed.”
The last time he crossed paths with Chrom, the bunny-eared fool was so distracted by his festival preparations that he could barely pay attention to what Grima had to say. Grima… may have let his impatience get the better of him. The result is that many of Chrom’s carefully-crafted eggs are now in pieces.
If Chrom weren’t his ally, Grima wouldn’t give the matter a second thought, of course, but a disappointed Chrom won’t be at his best in battle, so Grima’s only choice is to cheer him back up.
“But Chrom will probably just get angry if he sees this waste of resources,” Grima mutters. “If only I could make something that wasn’t so worthless…”
“Aww, don’t be so hard on yourself!” Kiran says. “This egg is really cute. I like the, uh, flowers on it…”
“Those are rabbits,” Grima says.
“Oh, yikes.”
Grima scowls. If even Kiran finds his work awful, he should definitely hurry up and destroy it.
“No, wait!” Kiran exclaims. “Don’t throw it out! It’s actually perfect!”
“Summoner, cease this foolishness.” Grima sighs. “We both know it’s hideous.”
“It’s not hideous. You just don’t know what you’re doing,” Kiran says. “But that’s why it’s perfect! You said it’s a replacement, right?”
“Yes…”
“Well, Chrom sucks at painting, too!”
“Er, he does?” Grima asks.
“Yeah.” Kiran laughs. “You should have seen the egg he put my portrait on. I looked like an egg! But hey, it’s all in good fun, and I’m just happy I’m popular enough to be included in other people’s festival traditions. I’m sure Chrom feels the same way, so stop worrying about how your egg looks and go give it to him already. You don’t want the festival to end before you can get it to him, do you?”
“Hmph. If I happen to run into him, I suppose I might as well hand this thing over,” Grima concedes. “I certainly have no use for it myself!”
“That’s the spirit! Kind of!” Kiran grins. “Good luck, Grima!”
Kiran leaves him, but Grima has a feeling they’re headed straight for Chrom. Seeing as Chrom happens to arrive at the other end of the gazebo just as Grima is set to pass through it, the whole situation reeks of a thinly-veiled scheme.
He looks down at his travesty of a spring-festival egg. It’s not too late to throw it out a window…
“Grima!” Chrom calls out. “Hey, I was looking for you!”
Ugh, it seems Grima can’t get out of this so easily after all.
“Chrom!” Grima shoves his arm behind his back, concealing the spring-festival egg from view. “Funny seeing you here…”
“Funny seeing me… at the festival I’m dressed up for?” Chrom frowns. “Er, right… Anyway, I was going to tell you this earlier, but you ran off so quickly—”
“Wait,” Grima interrupts. “Before you decide anything, you should know… I tried to decorate enough eggs to make up for the ones I broke, but I— I could only manage one. And it’s… Er, you’ll see. Here.”
He pushes his spring-festival egg into Chrom’s hands, unwilling to look at the man’s face.
“You… made this?” Chrom asks.
Grima winces as he nods.
“It’s wonderful!”
Grima’s gaze snaps incredulously to Chrom’s.
“You actually like it?” Grima almost laughs nervously, but he quickly covers the sound with a cough. “In that case, please consider it repayment… Or a start, at least.”
But Chrom shakes his head.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” he says. “I know I was, er, a bit distracted. You sure snapped me out of it, though. Sure, there are a few less eggs for me to give out at the festival now, but if you look around, you’ll see there’s no shortage of them anyway. You didn’t really hurt anything.”
“Well, that’s— That’s because I intended only to warn you,” Grima says. “Next time you displease the fell dragon, you’ll find out what true suffering is!”
Chrom chuckles, unbothered by Grima’s threat. In truth, he still seems somewhat distracted.
“Actually…” Chrom says hesitantly. “There is one that I’m glad you didn’t break. A special one…”
“Oh…” Grima swallows. “I see. A gift… for a particular person.”
“That’s right.” Chrom chuckles. “Er… Here. I made this for you.”
Chrom reaches into his coat pocket and removes a spring-festival egg decorated in blues and purples and accented with gold.
“W-Why would I want this?” Grima turns his head away, lest he stare too long at the beautiful egg. “I’m not celebrating this inane human festival!”
“Ha! You can’t fool me!” Despite his smug grin, Chrom’s eyes are warm. “Your tail completely gives you away!”
“My—”
Grima looks to his side, horrified to find that his costume’s magical tail is whipping back and forth as though it were attached to some kind of excited puppy rather than the embodiment of despair itself.
“I don’t know why it’s doing this!” Grima insists.
Chrom hums as he moves closer to Grima’s side.
“Does it bother you?” he asks. “I don’t think it’s a problem…”
Slowly, he brings his hand towards Grima’s head. Grima watches the movement, transfixed, until he feels Chrom’s fingers run through his hair.
“It’s just part of you being you,” Chrom says. “And that’s not a bad thing.”
“Chrom…”
Chrom chuckles and pulls back, but not before placing his spring-festival egg into Grima’s hands.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… Happy Spring Festival, Grima. I’m glad I get to celebrate with you.”
“Chrom, you…”
Grima’s breath catches as he observes the gift he’s been given. Kiran wasn’t kidding—the figures do look more like egg-shaped blobs than anything. Still, judging by the animal ears the ovals sport, Grima can only conclude that Chrom meant to paint… the two of them. A wolf and a rabbit, such an unlikely pair.
“You really are awful at painting,” Grima says with a huff.
To any fine art collector, the piece would be worthless. But when has Grima ever agreed with humanity’s valuation of anything?
Yes, Grima is pleased with this offering. And that blasted wagging tail of his ensures that Chrom knows it.