It was dark, this roof above him, dark but not impenetrable. If he stared long and hard enough at the deepest cracks he could see into them, see light. And he had stared long and hard at this roof above him, until most of the darkness was gone away.
"Friend..." the door creaked open suddenly, shedding bright candlelight into the room. He stared, suddenly caught in brilliance, and heard the rustle of cloth and echoing steps as the floor was crossed hurriedly. He squinted his eyes at the approaching flame, but couldn't turn away. Cold hands touched his cheeks and turned his face upward. He opened his eyes wide as the brilliance slowly faded out of them.
"What were you doing, staring so long into the darkness. You'll hurt your eyes."
"It's only what you've done," he croaked, his throat irritated at the unexpected use.
"You haven't been drinking your water, and you've let the candle go out. You must not do such things."
Feeling suddenly tired, he nodded, letting the hands guide him back to his pillows. It was true he should drink, and should not let the warmth of the candle fade. He looked back up into the ceiling, and it was a writhing mass of shadow. He was disappointed.
"I could almost see it, the white roofs."
The boy kneeling beside the bed stopped relighting the vanished flame. He stared at the boy in the bed before him. The candlelight lent him color, though it was still pale and sick, and it shined dully from his pale blond hair. His eyes, though, were alight with it, mild sapphire stuck in white sands. With relief he thought that the boy in front of him had seen the beach once, one thing that was not robbed from him.
He set to lighting the second candle again, "You saw the roofs?"
The boy in bed nodded slowly, staring up at the dark ceiling. "I almost saw them. That wasn't what I saw first."
"What did you see?" The candle lit and flared a moment. He brought up the pitched and topped off the glass on the bedside table.
"The gardens," the pale boy smiled impishly. "If Calais has fallen, then the battles really have been diversions. Do you think that the numbered woman will notice?"
The other boy nodded, "Yes. She is an intelligent general. She'll have noticed and already acted by now."
"That means that the battle will move straight to the capitol."
He nodded again, "Yes. Drink some water."
He helped the pale boy sit up and arranged his pillows behind him. He lifted the cup to his lips, but the boy took it with his own hands and drank down half slowly. He smiled down as he handed it back, "She is an excellent general, and an even better woman."
He looked up into those blue eyes a moment, realizing that he was being teased. He set down the glass and started to refill it.
The blue eyed boy merely smiled, the water having refreshed him some.
The green eyed boy watched the smile add color to his deathly pale face. His eyes did not move, nor did his face stir a fraction from where it was, and had always been. The pale boy reached for more water, and he moved the pitched back, ready to refill the glass again.
"You imagine the gardens back home," the pale one said, holding the glass before his face like a prop for hiding.
"You saw what I thought?"
"No," he grinned, "It's written all over your face. It's easy to tell." With that he laughed, then drew the glass up to drink so that water might hold the coughing at bay.
"You saw something other in your darkness, didn't you?" The green eyed boy asked, keeping his voice innocent.
The pale boy set the glass down on the table again and watched him refill it. "I did. It reminded me of the gardens and disturbed me away from what I was seeing."
"What was it?"
"Like the ocean at dawn, like the one we saw with the great storm looming over the horizon." He smiled mischievously, "I know something about the two we've been following now."
The green eyed boy looked up quickly, smooth with his expression as ever.
"The choice belongs to them now, a toss-up to see who will chose which path. One of them will find his true opponent, while the other will recognize his role in the whole scheme."
The green eyed boy raise one quizzical eyebrow.
The pale one chuckled, "I'm being too direct?"
Slowly the quizzical look settled back into place.
"How sardonic of you." He smiled and reached for his glass, looking back upwards towards the darkness, "For all you separated yourself from the jester from home, it's still there."
I can tell you of the gardens. In fact, I would like to hear a story tonight. Let's sit back, and listen, let our memories make the colors bright again.
*********
AN:Well, late as usual, but here I am. I am determined to finish, despite the years this story has spanned. All it takes is getting off my lazy butt. And perhaps thinking of a new title. As much as I like this one, perhaps one relating to the story would be good for it, no? Any takers? Thanks for coming back...or coming at all.
-Kitten
"Friend..." the door creaked open suddenly, shedding bright candlelight into the room. He stared, suddenly caught in brilliance, and heard the rustle of cloth and echoing steps as the floor was crossed hurriedly. He squinted his eyes at the approaching flame, but couldn't turn away. Cold hands touched his cheeks and turned his face upward. He opened his eyes wide as the brilliance slowly faded out of them.
"What were you doing, staring so long into the darkness. You'll hurt your eyes."
"It's only what you've done," he croaked, his throat irritated at the unexpected use.
"You haven't been drinking your water, and you've let the candle go out. You must not do such things."
Feeling suddenly tired, he nodded, letting the hands guide him back to his pillows. It was true he should drink, and should not let the warmth of the candle fade. He looked back up into the ceiling, and it was a writhing mass of shadow. He was disappointed.
"I could almost see it, the white roofs."
The boy kneeling beside the bed stopped relighting the vanished flame. He stared at the boy in the bed before him. The candlelight lent him color, though it was still pale and sick, and it shined dully from his pale blond hair. His eyes, though, were alight with it, mild sapphire stuck in white sands. With relief he thought that the boy in front of him had seen the beach once, one thing that was not robbed from him.
He set to lighting the second candle again, "You saw the roofs?"
The boy in bed nodded slowly, staring up at the dark ceiling. "I almost saw them. That wasn't what I saw first."
"What did you see?" The candle lit and flared a moment. He brought up the pitched and topped off the glass on the bedside table.
"The gardens," the pale boy smiled impishly. "If Calais has fallen, then the battles really have been diversions. Do you think that the numbered woman will notice?"
The other boy nodded, "Yes. She is an intelligent general. She'll have noticed and already acted by now."
"That means that the battle will move straight to the capitol."
He nodded again, "Yes. Drink some water."
He helped the pale boy sit up and arranged his pillows behind him. He lifted the cup to his lips, but the boy took it with his own hands and drank down half slowly. He smiled down as he handed it back, "She is an excellent general, and an even better woman."
He looked up into those blue eyes a moment, realizing that he was being teased. He set down the glass and started to refill it.
The blue eyed boy merely smiled, the water having refreshed him some.
The green eyed boy watched the smile add color to his deathly pale face. His eyes did not move, nor did his face stir a fraction from where it was, and had always been. The pale boy reached for more water, and he moved the pitched back, ready to refill the glass again.
"You imagine the gardens back home," the pale one said, holding the glass before his face like a prop for hiding.
"You saw what I thought?"
"No," he grinned, "It's written all over your face. It's easy to tell." With that he laughed, then drew the glass up to drink so that water might hold the coughing at bay.
"You saw something other in your darkness, didn't you?" The green eyed boy asked, keeping his voice innocent.
The pale boy set the glass down on the table again and watched him refill it. "I did. It reminded me of the gardens and disturbed me away from what I was seeing."
"What was it?"
"Like the ocean at dawn, like the one we saw with the great storm looming over the horizon." He smiled mischievously, "I know something about the two we've been following now."
The green eyed boy looked up quickly, smooth with his expression as ever.
"The choice belongs to them now, a toss-up to see who will chose which path. One of them will find his true opponent, while the other will recognize his role in the whole scheme."
The green eyed boy raise one quizzical eyebrow.
The pale one chuckled, "I'm being too direct?"
Slowly the quizzical look settled back into place.
"How sardonic of you." He smiled and reached for his glass, looking back upwards towards the darkness, "For all you separated yourself from the jester from home, it's still there."
I can tell you of the gardens. In fact, I would like to hear a story tonight. Let's sit back, and listen, let our memories make the colors bright again.
*********
AN:Well, late as usual, but here I am. I am determined to finish, despite the years this story has spanned. All it takes is getting off my lazy butt. And perhaps thinking of a new title. As much as I like this one, perhaps one relating to the story would be good for it, no? Any takers? Thanks for coming back...or coming at all.
-Kitten