I do not own The Village.

I do love it so much.

Speaking Further On Such Matters

On the Mend

His strength is returning to him now.

Slowly and with just the fewest hiccups and setbacks.

He has begun to walk the village here and there.

First just from inside The Healing House to a chair on the porch.

Fresh, open air a welcome respite from the closed-up confines of his convalescence.

Then down the steps and out onto the intermediate yard areas.

And then further, all the way to her porch.

Where he first confessed, in his own agitated, exasperated, sincere way, his unwavering devotion and love for her.

Kissed her under the misty moon.

Her.

Ivy Walker.

She is with him now, every step of the way, she is by his side.

An arm tucked into his, not hanging on him, pulling him down.

But holding him up, subtly and with dignity and love.

She attends to him without fail, rare is a time he is without her.

For their love is strong.

And hers hearty and warm and healing to him throughout his journey back from the cold, shivering darkness of death.

And one day, triumph, a journey, long and arduous.

All the way . . .

"I remember the day we were last here together, Lucius. With Percy."

. . . to Resting Rock.

He has not been there since Noah Percy brought the berries of The Bad Color.

It saddens him to think of Noah gone, fallen and broken upon the ground.

A weakened branch, so tragic life may be.

To be cut short by such a simple thing as a branch.

Or a sharpened piece . . .

"Are you alright? It was quite a walk."

"Yes. I will be alright."

. . . of metal.

"This is where I revealed your secret to you."

"I remember."

"I never needed you to hold my arm when we were younger. I don't know if you thought I did or if you simply joyed in it."

And he somehow finds himself willing to speak.

"I did. Joyed in it."

Easier by a little than before.

"I have always joyed in you."

And for this he is rewarded.

With a blush.

A smile.

And even the briefest . . .

"Someone may see."

"They may avert their eyes."

. . . of kisses.

They used to play together when they were children.

And he has always been in awe of her.

Sightless.

Male-less.

Fearless.

She has always lived with such enthusiasm and life.

". . . Lucius! Let us shout our love from the rooftops!"

Though somehow not quite to the draining, bewildering stridentness of her sister.

"Oh, . . ."

For which he has been grateful.

". . . hello."

Rather, her energy and strength somehow feed him, fill him, with happiness, renewed wonder for the world around him.

She expresses herself freely . . .

". . . don't do things we want to do so that others won't know we want to do them."

. . . whilst he feels his tongue leaden at the mere thought of opening his mouth to others.

Some may mistake him for simple.

Unobservant.

Or small.

But Ivy is one of the ones who has never . . .

"Are you not upset that you cannot see?"

. . . bothered to judge him for what he may seem to be.

Only . . .

"I see the world, Lucius Hunt. Just not as you see it."

. . . include him in her welcoming nature.

"You run like a boy."

Without hesitation.

And he . . .

"Thank you."

. . . loves her for all the ways she is.

I just can't get enough of Lucius and Ivy.

But that's just me.

Thanks DinahRay for so kindly reviewing before! :)