Post by devilinthedetails on Aug 13, 2018 9:51:09 GMT 10
Title: Rhythm of the River
Rating: PG
Word Count: 708
Bingo: Nostalgia + Dancing+ Lover+ Enemy+ River
Summary: On a nostalgic summer morning, Thayet and Jon dance barefoot in a river.
Rhythm of the River
Their first morning at the Summer Palace outside Blue Harbor, Jon led Thayet down a wooded trail that wound down to a river flowing into the Emerald Ocean half a mile away. She had never been to the Summer Palace before and her husband was determined to show her its splendors.
“I love this river, and I wanted you to see it.” Jon’s nostalgic tone told her that in shutting his eyes he was traveling back in time to this same space in the past. “When we were young, Gary and I used to play here every summer.”
Thayet was silent, drinking in the sight of the sun-dappled stream and letting him remember his childhood bliss with the cousin who had been raised alongside him at court. Opening his eyes and shading them with an upraised palm, Jon went on in a murmur that blended with the babbling brook, “Somehow it seemed more impressive back then. I don’t know if that’s because this cursed drought has dried much of the water or everything just loomed larger in the sunshine of my youth.”
“It’s beautiful.” Resolved not to permit him to descend into a morose mood because the drought couldn’t steal all their joy, Thayet leaned around the ever-growing bulge of her first pregnancy to remove her shoes and stockings, which she stowed on a rock by the riverbank. Tying up her skirts high enough that the water wouldn’t dampen them, she nudged him lightly in the ribs. “Come. Let’s dance in the river and wipe the frown from your face.”
The priestesses in the convent where she had been sent to learn a lady’s arts would have been scandalized at her baring ankles in such an undignified fashion, but Jon grinned and seized her hands between his in another little reminder of why she had married him.
They slipped between the draping branches of a weeping willow that hovered over the water like a long-haired matron washing her hair. As the stream—chilled even at this time of year from its origins at the crests of misty mountains—tickled their toes, they swayed, soft as the warm breeze whispering in the trees, to the rhythm of the river and their love. Silvery minnows reflective as the water rippling in the sunlight arrowed about their ankles.
The spot inspired another reminiscent remark from Jon. “I believe beneath this very willow was the place where I broke a bone for the first time.”
“You speak as if the memory of that milestone were a happy one,” teased Thayet, twirling beneath his arching arm.
“It didn’t start as one but it became one.” Jon drew her closer to his chest so she could hear his heart beating in harmony with hers. “Since it involved Gary, it inevitably was transformed into a happy memory in the fullness of time.”
“I understand how that is.” Thayet curved her head into Jon’s shoulder, musing that just as Buri was as much a sister as a friend to her, Gary was as much a brother as a cousin to her husband. “It’s the same with Buri and me.”
“Gary and I had a war game we’d play with gusto.” Jon had shaken his head in amusement at some childhood burst of exuberant folly. Thayet could feel the movement above her and see it in the shadow his body cast over the creek. “On opposing banks, we’d build stone fortifications and then take turns charing across the river, where the enemy would try to fend off the invasion. Every time, it made Mother nervous, but Uncle Gareth would assure her that it was marvelous training for later life. Truly it was amazing the exploits Gary and I got up to in this river when we were small.”
“Now that you’re older, you’re up to another.” Thayet tugged gently on his beard. “Dancing in it with your lover.”
“With my wife,” corrected Jon, kissing her hair. “Calling yourself my lover makes it sound as if I’m engaged in mischief again, my dear.”
“That’s because you’re about to be.” Thayet guided his lips to hers. “This river is where Jonathan of Conte engages in mischief and every sort of wild wickedness.”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 708
Bingo: Nostalgia + Dancing+ Lover+ Enemy+ River
Summary: On a nostalgic summer morning, Thayet and Jon dance barefoot in a river.
Rhythm of the River
Their first morning at the Summer Palace outside Blue Harbor, Jon led Thayet down a wooded trail that wound down to a river flowing into the Emerald Ocean half a mile away. She had never been to the Summer Palace before and her husband was determined to show her its splendors.
“I love this river, and I wanted you to see it.” Jon’s nostalgic tone told her that in shutting his eyes he was traveling back in time to this same space in the past. “When we were young, Gary and I used to play here every summer.”
Thayet was silent, drinking in the sight of the sun-dappled stream and letting him remember his childhood bliss with the cousin who had been raised alongside him at court. Opening his eyes and shading them with an upraised palm, Jon went on in a murmur that blended with the babbling brook, “Somehow it seemed more impressive back then. I don’t know if that’s because this cursed drought has dried much of the water or everything just loomed larger in the sunshine of my youth.”
“It’s beautiful.” Resolved not to permit him to descend into a morose mood because the drought couldn’t steal all their joy, Thayet leaned around the ever-growing bulge of her first pregnancy to remove her shoes and stockings, which she stowed on a rock by the riverbank. Tying up her skirts high enough that the water wouldn’t dampen them, she nudged him lightly in the ribs. “Come. Let’s dance in the river and wipe the frown from your face.”
The priestesses in the convent where she had been sent to learn a lady’s arts would have been scandalized at her baring ankles in such an undignified fashion, but Jon grinned and seized her hands between his in another little reminder of why she had married him.
They slipped between the draping branches of a weeping willow that hovered over the water like a long-haired matron washing her hair. As the stream—chilled even at this time of year from its origins at the crests of misty mountains—tickled their toes, they swayed, soft as the warm breeze whispering in the trees, to the rhythm of the river and their love. Silvery minnows reflective as the water rippling in the sunlight arrowed about their ankles.
The spot inspired another reminiscent remark from Jon. “I believe beneath this very willow was the place where I broke a bone for the first time.”
“You speak as if the memory of that milestone were a happy one,” teased Thayet, twirling beneath his arching arm.
“It didn’t start as one but it became one.” Jon drew her closer to his chest so she could hear his heart beating in harmony with hers. “Since it involved Gary, it inevitably was transformed into a happy memory in the fullness of time.”
“I understand how that is.” Thayet curved her head into Jon’s shoulder, musing that just as Buri was as much a sister as a friend to her, Gary was as much a brother as a cousin to her husband. “It’s the same with Buri and me.”
“Gary and I had a war game we’d play with gusto.” Jon had shaken his head in amusement at some childhood burst of exuberant folly. Thayet could feel the movement above her and see it in the shadow his body cast over the creek. “On opposing banks, we’d build stone fortifications and then take turns charing across the river, where the enemy would try to fend off the invasion. Every time, it made Mother nervous, but Uncle Gareth would assure her that it was marvelous training for later life. Truly it was amazing the exploits Gary and I got up to in this river when we were small.”
“Now that you’re older, you’re up to another.” Thayet tugged gently on his beard. “Dancing in it with your lover.”
“With my wife,” corrected Jon, kissing her hair. “Calling yourself my lover makes it sound as if I’m engaged in mischief again, my dear.”
“That’s because you’re about to be.” Thayet guided his lips to hers. “This river is where Jonathan of Conte engages in mischief and every sort of wild wickedness.”