Big news, big night: The morning (is it?) after

[newredmuses]

Did he sleep at all last night? He may have tried, long after he and Kate had exhausted themselves with talking and crying and laughing. It's hard to say too, when he first noticed that he was lying awake, watching the light in the room change. (Of course, he'd been told, that there isn't sunlight here, as such, but the facsimile is fine enough.)

The scar in his side tells him he is dead, but in faith, lying here beside his wife, his own Kate, he feels nothing of the sort.

Now, is she sleeping still? He slides closer, and plants a kiss just so on her bare shoulder.

Comments

[tiltingwithlips]

"Nay, I am not surprised. And never before that? When I could not find ye in Warkworth on a winter's day and shouted myself hoarse, you were never hid away here?"

[valiantrebel]

"No, I was out with my horse for the purpose of vexing you. I never found it at home -- where does it come?" He gives her a suspicious look. "And when I'd come home and have no wife to greet me and bring me wine and otherwise attend on me, were you never pounding princes over here?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"In the cellar 'tis."

She thumps him in the shoulder.

"I was out with thy dogs. For the purpose making them less nuisance to the servants. Very like their master, are they."

[valiantrebel]

"Was that the purpose of all our hours abed? So the servants might get some work done?" He lets out a tragic moan. "My dogs! Marry, but I miss them. Might you bring one back, the next time you are here?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"Ah, my lord, I would have taken that to my grave!" She flops down beside him, pulling a melancholy face. "All those hours wasted 'twixt the sheets with thee when I might have done honest work. Such trials I've been through, lord."

[valiantrebel]

"Thou'rt a very martyr to cleanliness and good housekeeping. They shall saint you for it, and I, poor sinner, will be but iconography."

He will make this face in all graven images, a not-comical-at-all-certainly-not pout.

[tiltingwithlips]

"A poor saint I should make" -- her hand drifts down his belly -- "unchaste as I am."

[valiantrebel]

"Conceived and her husband gone a month?" He presses his forehead conspiratorially to hers. "Say nothing, and it will be a miracle. I will pray devotions to you, my lady of the mops and brooms."

[tiltingwithlips]

All right, she needs to kiss his stupid face for that one.

[valiantrebel]

He will submit! He will even take her face between his palms. Holy palmer's kiss, mayhap?

It's a perfect moment, though, which means it cannot be allowed to stand for long.

"About my dogs..."

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate snorts. "I will fetch you a dog, you rogue, else I shall never hear the end of it."

[valiantrebel]

"Or out of the goodness of your sainted heart!" He drapes one arm across her hips. "Can it be Lady, if I may have the pick of them?"

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate's smile softens, and she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"She would be glad to see you, I think. I'll say she ran away, I suppose."

[valiantrebel]

"We should do that too."

He's got that look in his eyes.

"Love, let us go somewhere. I am sick to death of this place. What say you to Sherwood?"

Yup, he's for real.

[tiltingwithlips]

". . . Do you jest, sir?"

[valiantrebel]

"You know I loathe to laugh. But no, I do not." He grins. "Come, say yes, Kate. I want to go somewhere with you."

[tiltingwithlips]

"To Sherwoof," she repeats. "To be a bandit and his wife?"

[valiantrebel]

"Only for a little while. We would come back and then be something else."

[tiltingwithlips]

Kate laughs.

"Ah, well, if I may be Lady Percy still -- then why not Sherwood?"

[valiantrebel]

"There is an evil sheriff," he says, with direness and danger in his voice. "And his terrible henchman who only wears black. And I hear that we'd eat squirrel more oft than meat."

It's something like being on campaign, isn't it.

He nods, conclusively, in conclusion. "I will speak with Allan."