Author stuff: A continuation of Day 2 (The Garden State of Mind). Also, continuing my steam of switching back and forth of their POV. Maybe I'll switch it up one of these days? Maybe not.
I won't be posting anything tomorrow. I'll actually be out and about by myself at the Bristol Renaissance Faire in Kenosha, Wi. I haven't been there in a while, and I was supposed to be on vacation this whole week. Didn't pan out due to... multiple reasons. So, I had most of this week off as well as tomorrow and Monday. Doubt if any of y'all will be there but I'll be posting pics on my Insta and tumblr.
Day 4 - Eres Tú/Our Song
Rest
Claire collapsed on the makeshift bed that had been made for her. It was more of a nest of blankets and pillows and sleeping bags than anything else, but it was where she slept quite comfortably at night. It was her new home.
She gave out a soft sigh, feeling her joints realign and pop almost painfully. She would be content to lie there and not be bothered for the next millenia if she could help it.
Life had other plans, however.
A knock at the door – really, it was a scrap of wood that had been filched from… somewhere – alerted her to someone's presence. She quickly closed her eyes and examined the energy of the person outside. Sky blue and comfortable and peace.
Jim.
She gave a garbled reply, not caring to get up or even open her eyes.
"Claire?" he said, walking in tentatively. He moved slowly to her side, sitting on the edge of her bed. Only when she felt the pillows and blankets move did she crack open her eyes. She lazily pat the spot next to her.
He wasn't wearing his armor. That must have meant that his work for the day, er, night was done.
"Sleepy sleepy time," she said. "Go night night."
He chuckled, taking her up on her offer and pulling her close. They were slowly accumulating time to be just them, with the completion of the new TrollMarket under way. She didn't know what she would do if they'd continued like they had during the eleven month journey to New Jersey, if they hadn't found the creepy bird-like troll colony.
"You feeling okay?" Jim said quietly as she gripped the soft cotton of the shirt she'd gotten him at the local WalMart.
She hummed in agreement.
"Just tired," she said, her words slurring out. "Stay?"
"If you want me to."
"I want."
"Okay."
She started to drift off, his breathing and steadily beating heart lulling her off into sleep. And then he began to sing.
"Hoy desperté con ganas de besarte," he sung in a scratchy, pitchy voice. "Tengo una sed de acariciarte…"
She didn't mind until he reached the chorus the second time. She moaned and wriggled her arm out from between them, slapping him in the face. Once, twice, five times. He ended up licking her hand to get her to stop.
"No singing," she said, wiping his saliva in his hair. "Bad singing."
"I thought you liked that song," he said, sounding a little hurt.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, squinting.
"I do," she said. "Just no singing our song right now."
"Our song?"
She hummed in agreement.
"Alright. Our song."