[026] OOM - There's no place like home

[tristranthorn]

His shoulder and arm are - thankfully - healed completely at this point. It has been many weeks, but the help of pain medication, good stress-free rest, and delicious food helped splendidly in his recovery.

However, the time to return to Faerie draws near. On the one hand, Tristran is quite glad of it. It is their home, after all, and he is looking forward to really starting...well, things with Yvaine. But on the other, there is the ever-looming realization that he will soon have to inherit an entire kingdom and the responsibility of it all is somewhat staggering.

His shoulder is still a little stiff from the lack of use, but at least he is now able to do things with both of his arms. It is a very good feeling.

He glances over at Yvaine.

Now it is simply a matter of bringing up the whole ... going home thing - if she doesn't bring it up first.

Comments

[an_evening_star]

The door closes slightly and she glares around the edge - hair curling out of its impromptu pin and into her eyes.

"Shut up, dear."

The fact that everything is in complete disarray is totally part of the Plan.

"Yes, I'm sure," she replies. "It'll be fine in a minute."

It will. Really.

[tristranthorn]

He grins.

Something about the way she looks right now makes his heart stop for a moment. Maybe it's the fact that this is something he can imagine seeing every day - the two of them like this.

It reminds him a bit of home - only a little more frazzled, perhaps. A little more...Yvaine.

"Are you sure you don't need some help, maybe?"

[an_evening_star]

"It's all there," she huffs slightly, frowning angrily at a pile of things resting on the edge of the bed. "There was a system, I think. I'm pretty sure."

There was, at some point. She had been trying very terribly hard to keep things in order and it had even been working, but then -

"You hum in the shower."

[tristranthorn]

He drapes his towel over the nearby chair and begins to pick some of the things up from their bed.

"Here, let me just take some of these -" He stops short, face growing a little warm. "I don't. Well, not - not really."

That's the fault of having a shower. Cursed showers!

[an_evening_star]

It's the rain-noises - they give the illusion that people can't hear you over them.

(They lie.)

"You're embarrassed?" she laughs, backs of her fingers cool against his cheeks - she moves with surprising agility on occasion. Especially occasions involving Tristran turning interesting colors.

[tristranthorn]

He shakes his head, but the embarrassment only shows up a little more with his denial. (It's not just a river.)

"M'not," he protests.

Beat.




"Anyway, you obviously can't clean."

[an_evening_star]

That only makes her beam, the spread of color making her fingers tingle, and she tilts her chin with an extreme sort of primness.

"You just don't understand my methods, is all."

[tristranthorn]

"What methods, exactly?" he asks, bringing his own hand up to and over hers.

"It must be a very complex method if even you cannot understand it."

[an_evening_star]

Her fingers lace easily downward, through his, and the smile just widens.

"You distracted me in the middle of the process," she murmurs dismissively. "Where did you learn the song, Prince Charming?"

[tristranthorn]

"I -"

Okay, she has got to stop that. Seriously. It is beginning to render him completely useless (and he has enough embarrassment).

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, if we want to go back home, we have to get this place looking less like a storm has passed through it."

[an_evening_star]

"Fine, yes. Home," her eyes cast skyward for a moment, pressing a quick kiss to his chin before she turns once more. "We will change the subject - drop it entirely."

The song she starts up once she's leaning over to retrieve a (surprisingly) neatly folded pile from the floor, however, sounds rather suspiciously familiar.

[tristranthorn]

All right.

So.

Tristran is going to ignore that with every ounce of his being, while his face heats up like a slowly building fireplace.

He turns to pack away the mess of things on the bed, focusing all of his attention upon the task.

Yvaine can be so cruel, sometimes. (Emotear.)

[an_evening_star]

Tristran really should be used to this by now. (Your emotear is ignored. Blatantly.)

And it's a perfectly nice song.

She winds easily with it - changing a note here and there, yes, but stepping in some crooked sort of dance and draping this or that over an arm and over a shoulder.

It's rather impressive, actually, how well the things here and there fit into something that vaguely resembles organized groups.

[tristranthorn]

Yvaine does sing it nicer.

It's a song his mother used to sing to Louisa and him before bed from so, so long ago.

The heat in his face slowly recedes into nothingness as he continues to work - quite deliberately not looking in the star's direction - to clean the room.

For a small room, it certainly seems bigger when one takes the messes into account.

[an_evening_star]

Oh, it's not that bad.

The song tapers off easily as the last of her armful gets folded neatly onto the bureau shelves.

"Are there words?" she inquires curiously, tweaking his cheek and grinning impishly as she steps past, knocking the drawer of bedside table closed with her hip.

[tristranthorn]

"There were," Tristran answers as nonchalantly as he can, really wishing she would drop the darned thing already.

"I cannot remember any of them, though."

All that he remembers is a tune.

[an_evening_star]

"Am I upsetting you, dear?"

She leans herself slightly against the edge of the table, eyes bright and smile utterly guileless.

Shiny and innocent.

[tristranthorn]

"No."

Maybe.

A little.

Hmph.

[an_evening_star]

Poor dear.

A laugh, and she crooks her finger.

"Come here."

[tristranthorn]

He packs away the stack of shirts before casually making his way towards her.

"Yes?"

[an_evening_star]

She waits until he's close enough for her to catch the seams of his shirt and tugs him a bit closer, fingers tangling easily into the material.

"My most sincere apologies, Prince Charming," she answers, tilting her chin up. "You do forgive me, yes?"

[tristranthorn]

She's really perfected this whole manipulativeness to an art, that Yvaine.

Slowly he winds his arms around her slender waist.

"I suppose," he starts before drawing out a pause. "Maybe."

[an_evening_star]

Ah, but he's learning.

"Maybe?"

She leans herself up a bit more, head tilting curiously to one side.

"Am I to prove that I am genuinely sorry?"

[tristranthorn]

"You could try," he says - and there may be a hint of something (mischief, perhaps?) in his voice.

If you listen closely enough.

[an_evening_star]

"I could," she agrees, lips twitching slightly. "Should do something nice."

She straightens fully, arms rising to thread themselves into the curls at the base of his neck, leaning close enough that her eyelashes fan against his cheek.

The sudden grin is very nearly a tangible thing.

"Room's clean."