Darras, at first, doesn't get up. This is the way it always goes. Yseult wakes, and gets out of bed, and Darras eventually follows--or at least rolls over to see where she's gone, see that she's all right--but not right away. He stays where he is a moment longer, two. If there were danger he would know. He wouldn't be caught laying around.
But there's no danger. The light in the cottage is that dark pre-dawn light, and the glow of what's left of the fire. They had eaten bread and a spiced vegetable stew for dinner; the smell of it is still in the room. The warmth of the blankets and the coolness of the air that sifts in between the curtains. It smells faintly of the sea, a far-off perfume--and there's the sound of the waves too, distant, crashing against the rocks. The scratching of Yseult's pen is the next sound that makes its way to Darras and he smiles, half-asleep, and rolls onto his back.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-03-17 03:13 am (UTC)But there's no danger. The light in the cottage is that dark pre-dawn light, and the glow of what's left of the fire. They had eaten bread and a spiced vegetable stew for dinner; the smell of it is still in the room. The warmth of the blankets and the coolness of the air that sifts in between the curtains. It smells faintly of the sea, a far-off perfume--and there's the sound of the waves too, distant, crashing against the rocks. The scratching of Yseult's pen is the next sound that makes its way to Darras and he smiles, half-asleep, and rolls onto his back.
"What is it?" he says aloud, after a moment.