Doves and Peacocks
The walk to the ferry station
It had barely been an hour since the proper declarations had been made, and the attachment officiated, in the garden. Ruthenia moved about as if buoyed upon a cloud, and only a steady flow of conversation from her new partner—the intermittent “that looks interesting” and “the drinks are gone?” and “this crowd unsettles me”—kept her on the ground.
He seemed more liberal with conversation—markedly with her, but also slightly noticeably with others—ever since they had returned from the garden. Once or twice they took seats in a couch, and there would be furtive looks in their direction, although beyond feeling more relaxed side by side they barely gave any sign that anything had changed.
Naturally, they opted to depart from Hollia’s cottage together, and Ruthenia quickly learned as they exited the doorway—after their friend’s well-wishes—that a carriage awaited Aleigh at the ferry station.
They took the quiet walk in the darkness with slow, measured steps, admiring the glinting stars and the singing of the cicadas. Then Ruthenia stopped.
“What is it?” asked her companion.
She let the silence rest for a while. “I’m just stalling,” she answered with a smile. “I don’t want the walk to end.”
He laughed again. She could really get used to the sound. “Ruthenia, I would gladly wait as long as you liked,” he replied.
In the dark she reached out, and found his hand, wriggling her own fingers between his. “Well, you have a carriage to board,” she said. “It has to be my fault you’re late, or they’ll get upset with you.”
Aleigh sighed. “Well, you are not wrong,” he said. “But I think some extra minutes with you are well worth enduring my brother’s annoyance for.” She felt him lift his left hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you about the one type of Weaving I’m best at.”
The questioning “oh?” was barely out of her when a brilliant golden light flashed to life in his palm, illuminating both their faces. She stared up at him, the light glittering in his eyes, and then at the coil of Thread in his left hand. “Ooh...I didn’t know you knew how to do that. It’s amazing.”
She reached out to touch it, but Aleigh’s hand darted away. “Oh, no, if you disrupt the Thread conformation it may stop glowing,” he warned.
Ruthenia laughed. “I’m so bad at Weaving the Threads probably wouldn’t even react,” she said. Then she looked at him again when he did not respond, and found him gazing distantly at her, his smile absent in the light of his Thread construct. “Aleigh! Is my existence so dumbfounding?”
Aleigh continued to watch her for a while. “Dumbfoundingly captivating.” Her face went aflame. And then, as if it weren’t enough, he added, with darting eyes, “May I…”
She recognised the look in his eyes and blushed hotter. “Please do.”
She lifted her head in anticipation. He reached out to cup her face in his hands, extinguishing the light at the same moment. There was nothing in the darkness but the feeling of their mouths searching each other’s and the heat it ignited in their bodies.
Eventually, they did proceed with the trip, five minutes later, drunk on each other’s presences. “I'm sorry,” said Aleigh as they walked down the gravel road, “but I must ask that we keep this as tight a secret as possible—at least until I am ready, and until you are.”
She understood. There’d be prying eyes everywhere. She nodded.
They noticed the carriage by the ferry platform before they began the climb to the top, and while they promised not to be seen engaging in any form of intimacy, she gave him a good, tight hug at the foot of the staircase, mumbling her thanks into his shoulder. She let him reach the platform first, and waved him an innocent goodbye while the carriage driver opened the door for him. He seemed to think little of her presence, but she did not go unnoticed either.
When Aleigh had departed, Ruthenia sat down and basked in the afterglow.