“…That’s not breakfast, Lari. Food is breakfast.”
“Coffee is food. Sort of.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
“Fuck you.”
(Source: riesgrafs)
“The lake at Dawnbreaker’s estate used to have a pair of swans who lived on the eastern bank…”
She looks over at the boy, staring at her with wide eyes, a pillow hugged to his chest, listening to her speak with a child-like innocence, completely enraptured. It makes her feel every bit her age, and she frowns, swatting him with another pillow laying beside her in the bed.
“…Anyhow, the swans. Pair of mean fuckers, with their beady eyes and long necks, paddling about like they owned the damn place—”
“But, Lari… Swans are so pretty, so elegant—”
“And so vicious, so cunning, so obnoxious. Right bastards, swans. Overgrown ducks with bad tempers. Anyhow, one day, when Noctuah was still little, before her mother passed, we were having a picnic in the gardens. The littlest Dawnbreaker wandered off a little ways to play, and the next thing you know we hear screaming and splashing and here comes Noc running full tilt for us, both swans hot on her ass, all hissing and trumpeting and beating their wings. Fuckers ran us all the way back to the House.”
“…Swans are mean, Lari.”
“That they are, my sweet. That they are.”
“Are… Are you awake, Lari?”
“I am, hon.”
“What are you doing?”
“…Stargazing.”
Behind her, the big wyvern rolls over in his sleep, the Elf stealing a glance back at him. Toar’s laying to her left, hands crossed behind his head as he stares up at the sky.
“It’s pretty.”
“…It is.”
“Lari?”
“Mm?”
“Did… Did you ever stargaze with… With him? Before?”
She’s quiet for a minute, brow furrowed as she watches the heavens.
“…No, Toar. I didn’t.”
She lies effortlessly, reaching for his hand, their fingers intertwining.
(Source: clavis-mentis)
(Source: pritamsaha)
(Source: spidersexx)
Though she’d broken away from the Deathstalker, seeking to start a new life with the boy who had been her salvation, she found that Alexei often crept into her thoughts, catching her off guard at the most unexpected of times.
“Lari? Lari, are you okay?”
Toar’s voice, gentle and soft, yanked her from her thoughts, and she offered him the barest hint of a smile as she looked at him, lounging beneath a tree by the lake.
“…I’m fine, hon. Just fine.”
Limping over, she slowly lowered herself to the ground alongside him. They would spend the rest of the day in each others quiet company, the boy oblivious to the gray cloud that darkened the old Elf’s mind.
“Toar, you fuckin’ goof. Lemme’ go.”
“No, ma’am. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
She laughs against him, kissing his cheek as he runs a hand through her hair, fingertips playing across her ears. It sends a shiver down the old Elf’s spine, her nails lightly grazing his shoulder.
“Suit yourself, then…”
(Source: keviniee)
“I told you that you’d like the Bay, hon.”
“It… It’s raining, Lari…”
“And? We’re already wet, what’s it matter?”
He treads water awkwardly, steadying himself by reaching to her, his hands on her shoulders. A blush takes his cheeks, and he smiles, laughing softly.
“I… I guess it doesn’t.”
“Nope, not one damn bit.”
Textile Series © Jarek Kubicki ‘2005