#questsy

@questsy​ starter for yvaine from [ tristan ]

It's all anyone can hope to hear. Tristan only wishes that the faith Yvaine seems to have in his potential as a father is well - founded. Still, youth is a funny thing for people like Tristan. It gives a foolish sense of confidence and limited time to worry about the matters of the future, so he grins, turns to Yvaine to say — ❝ Thank you, ❞ — and puts it off his mind for now. It's easy to laugh with her, and to press a kiss to her cheek in turn, mirroring her actions. They're so close he can feel her breath on his cheek, the glow of her hair feeling almost tangible from this distance. It grounds him. ❝ Well, you were the one who said that. ❞ His tone is playful. Soon, however, the playfulness is exchanged with a soft — not concern, exactly, but a thoughtful expression that holds some sort of inquiry. Soon enough, Tristan finds the words to say, ❝ It's nothing bad, just. . . I want you to feel at home here, but I also know where you come from, it was different and far from here... You must miss it, don't you? ❞

they   are   so   very   different,   the   two   of   them.         but   patience   feels   as   though   she   has   known   @questsy​​   for   a   thousand   lifetimes   already.      she   combs   through   leonora’s   hair,   the   two   of   them   curled   up   together   in   patience’s   bed.      though   there   are   two   beds   in   their   shared   dormitory   room,   they   rarely   sleep   apart   anymore      —      and   patience   certainly   cannot   complain   about   that.            “      what   has   you   thinking   about   this,   leo?      ”            she   asks   quietly,   her   voice   a   sing-song   in   the   late-night   quiet,   the   chirping   of   crickets   through   the   open   window   a   serenade   together.            “      of   course   i   do!      life   would   not   be   worth   living   were   it   not   for   such   beautiful   possibilities,   don’t   you   think?      ”

“      that   is   the,   ah   .   .   .      the   fun   of   all   this,   ja?      ”            bren   is   practicing   his   common,   even   though   it   still   isn’t   very   good.      talking   with   adaine   helps,   since   she   doesn’t   know   zemnian;      it’s   more   challenging.      but   just   now,   it’s   her   who   seems   challenged.      bren   grins.            “      learning   .   .   .      as   we   go.      ”   

they   may   be   locked   in   here,   and   they   may   all   be   together,   but   fabian   is   still   glad   they   take   turns   keeping   watch   all   the   same.            “      you   didn’t   sleep   through   third   watch,   if   that’s   what   you’re   worried   about,      ”            he   answers   in   a   whisper,   to   hopefully   avoid   waking   up   the   rest   of   the   bad   kids   sleeping   around   them.            “      did   you   finish   your   trance   already?      ”   

it   is   a   deep   shame   upon   the   de   silva   family.         their   daughter,   a   jewel   in   their   circles   of   finery,   with   all   of   the   prospects   of   fine   marriages   before   her,   being   caught   in   the   throes   of   passion   with   a   bastard   serving   boy.      @questsy​​   will   be   ruined      —      she   is   already   ruined.      the   only   way   to   spare   them   a   modicum   of   shame,   jess   and   her   family,   is   for   her   and   the   base-born   serving   boy,   dextyr   roan,   to   marry.      if   dex   had   known   it   would   be   this   simple   for   them   to   manage   such   an   arrangement,   he   would   have   suggested   it   to   jessamine   weeks   ago,   when   their   secret   affair   first   begins.      but   even   after   their   simple,   quiet   wedding,   he   can   tell   it   troubles   jess.      she   is   nearly   silent   .   .   .      and   he   worries.      what   if   she   did   not   want   this?      what   if   it   is   not   him   she   wished   for   in   the   long-run   of   life?      what   if,   what   if,   what   if.            “      you,   uh   .   .   .      ”            it   is   not   so   stressful   or   difficult   between   them   before   now      —      not   ever.      but   now   they   stand   here   in   the   bedroom   of   the   house   jessamine’s   parents   set   up   for   them      —      small   but   tasteful,   staffed   but   not   overly   so,   far   enough   from   the   ton   for   wagging   tongues   not   to   follow   them   so   very   much      —      barely   able   to   look   the   other   in   the   eye.            “      i   don’t   ‘ave   to   stay   in   ‘ere,      ”            he   finally   manages.            “      ‘m   sure   there’s   somewhere   else   i   could   sleep,   if   that’s   what   ya   want   .   .   .      ”

they’ve   only   got   one   blanket   between   the   two   of   them   right   now.         trinket   is   still   pretty   small,   but   the   warmth   does   help.      apparently   not   enough   for   @questsy​​,   who   grumbles   at   vax   over   breakfast   as   though   he   could   control   himself   as   he   sleeps.      he   rolls   his   eyes   at   vex’ahlia,   poking   at   the   small   bites   of   squirrel   meat   remaining   on   his   plate   from   his   sister’s   meagre   hunt   this   morning.            “      well,   you   kicked   me   in   the   stomach   the   night   before,      ”            he   retorts   grumpily.            “      guess   we’re   even.      ”

 rune’s   knee   is   scrapped,   and   delmah’s   touch   is   gentle   as   she   cleans   it   up,   blowing   softly   like   she’s   seen   mama   do   a   hundred   times   when   cuts   and   bruises   weren’t   big   enough   for   a   quick   spell.         ❝     see   ??   all   better   now,   ninil.   i’ve   got   you,   kay   ??   want   me   to   kiss   it   better   too   ??     ❞