( 1 )
Rubedo shifts slightly, nuzzling his cheek against Nigredo's shirt, and sighs contentedly. Crisp fall air rushes around them, teasingly stealing any heat that's not trapped between their bodies and beneath their coats.
Nigredo runs a hand through his hair and removes a leaf that'd gotten stuck. The ground is cool and flat, covered by a bedsheet-cum-picnic-blanket that has now wrinkled and tangled itself beneath them. Surrounded by the vibrant, rich oranges and reds of fallen foliage, they cling to each other for comfort and warmth -- not that the day is unpleasant, simply a bit windy.
Clutching a beloved book to his chest, Rubedo keeps his eyes closed and seeks Nigredo's hand. He locates his brother's forearm and slides his loose grip up until their fingers brush together. Nigredo clasps Rubedo's hand in his own, the simple, affectionate touch enhanced by freeflowing, easygoing psychic harmony.
Rubedo dreams of forgotten ships at sea and space; Nigredo dreams of elegant skyscrapers and philanthropy.
The wind rushes around them, and they are in peace.