He'd been blind for so long now that the relief he felt at having someone who understood was almost painful. Kel nodded gratefully against Rance's cheek, a half-inaudible Thank you whispered in his friend's ear.
The innocence of their embrace couldn't last forever, however much he wanted it to. The realities of the world intruded, and the compromised position Kel had found himself in, naked and soaked to the skin. He was quick to grab for his clothing, giving himself a barely-adequate toweling off with the cleanest corner of his dirty tunic before ducking into the fresh one and pulling on the roughly-woven loose linen pants. He kept stealing glances to the side, trying to keep Rance in sight, afraid that if he looked away too longor at all that the other man would vanish as suddenly as he'd reappeared in Kel's life.
There was real pain, then, at hearing how close they had been. If only he'd been brave enough to walk into the center of things instead of staying on the outskirts of the festival. If only he'd actually looked at those attending instead of losing himself in his own misery. If only... If only he'd...
"I made one for mhamo Rowan. Candle, too," he said, voice small as he stood again and went to rejoin his friend. His bundle of dirty clothes were under one arm, but he reached out the other tentatively to twine his fingers through Rance's, as they'd done as children. Just that much. Just that little bit of contact to reassure himself that it wasn't an illusion. Or at least, that if the ravenkin started to disappear again that he'd take Kel with him. Surely the old dryad who had been a true grandmother to him had a branch in their finding each other again.
The mantas drifted ever-closer, the young one curious and the mother vigilant but calm as they sang and foraged over the tide pool rocks. "They... it's true then?" he asked sadly. "That we won't ever... ever see them again? Not even in the Ghost Queen's halls?"
The innocence of their embrace couldn't last forever, however much he wanted it to. The realities of the world intruded, and the compromised position Kel had found himself in, naked and soaked to the skin. He was quick to grab for his clothing, giving himself a barely-adequate toweling off with the cleanest corner of his dirty tunic before ducking into the fresh one and pulling on the roughly-woven loose linen pants. He kept stealing glances to the side, trying to keep Rance in sight, afraid that if he looked away too long
There was real pain, then, at hearing how close they had been. If only he'd been brave enough to walk into the center of things instead of staying on the outskirts of the festival. If only he'd actually looked at those attending instead of losing himself in his own misery. If only... If only he'd...
"I made one for mhamo Rowan. Candle, too," he said, voice small as he stood again and went to rejoin his friend. His bundle of dirty clothes were under one arm, but he reached out the other tentatively to twine his fingers through Rance's, as they'd done as children. Just that much. Just that little bit of contact to reassure himself that it wasn't an illusion. Or at least, that if the ravenkin started to disappear again that he'd take Kel with him. Surely the old dryad who had been a true grandmother to him had a branch in their finding each other again.
The mantas drifted ever-closer, the young one curious and the mother vigilant but calm as they sang and foraged over the tide pool rocks. "They... it's true then?" he asked sadly. "That we won't ever... ever see them again? Not even in the Ghost Queen's halls?"
