Honey Drunk (March 3010) {Adelais}
Apr 30, 2018 14:49:36 GMT -5
Post by Swithin on Apr 30, 2018 14:49:36 GMT -5
“No, I can’t share unless you have wings! Ginger is going to take me high, high, high! Up my dress and into the stars!”
Swithin blanched and took in a long deep breath. He could almost hear the gasp of his Mam through the wooden walls of the house, and her quickend footsteps toward the bedroom, but he also heard the sound of his Pop's feet against the floor and the way he hushed her.
It was indeed eagerness which Swithin joined Adelais upon the bed. Eagerness to still her words, which she was squealing about in front of all his family. “There shall be no sharing,” Swithin stated firmly, looking toward Oswin, then back to Adelais. He knew not what words to even give her; it seemed absurd to think of bending to her desires for the state she was in now; and oh he had come too close before. He should not have obliged her; surely had she been in right mind he may have made… considerations… yet now…
“Giiiiiinger!”
Her arms were around him and her honeyed lips against his cheek, and Swithin could almost lose himself and smile for the sweetness she held; though soon again was he frowning. “My shoes are off, worry about my dress!”
“Heruthain,” he heard the sharp sound of his Mam trying to shrug Pops off in the other room.
“He made his bed. Let him lie in it,” Heruthain's voice responded, a half chuckle to the sound of it.
Not the way he had wanted them to meet her. No, not the way.
“Come on, Ginger!”
She dropped to the pillow, yawning, and her face still gleaming. Swithin felt a tug within; for even as she was, it was somewhat endearing. She was tired, he could tell by her yawn, and he wondered at what folly it would be to simply lay beside her. Pops had said to let him lie in it. He could lay there; hold her. He wanted her in his arms again.
Oh, what a want. He had never wanted something so much, he was sure. He scooted nearer the head of the bed, sitting beside her, and reached to touch her cheek. She would soon be asleep, if he waited only a moment he was sure and--.
“Wait.” Suddenly, she seemed panicked, and drew up again. Swithin's hand slipped to her shoulder, his own eyes widening again at her sudden burst of energy.
“…Where’s Hopsalot? Ginger, we can’t have the magic show without Hopsalot!”
“Magic show; is that what you're calling it?” Oswin laughed from where he had been leaning against the doorframe, watching the whole ordeal.
Swithin shot him a hard glance, though it did nothing to quell Oswin's fervor.
“He's all right,” Swithin answered, glancing to Adelis. “Hopsalot is asleep, at your Gran's and… and...” It seemed her face was contorting to what could only be tears of dismay and he breathed in deeply again, his eyes raking across the room.
She was completely plastered. And apparently wanted her rabbit. What could he do? No, he did not wish to see her tears; she had been so happy.
Hurridly did Swithin's eyes glance upon the basket of his newly laundered clothes, and there within balled together, a pair of his brown knits stockings. Worn and precariously mended, but they were clean, and the way the ends of them stuck out like ears.
“Look here… here he is!” Swithin announced suddenly, jumping up from the bed and grasping the socks. Holding them gently against his chest in two hands as if indeed it were a live rabbit. His ears poked up over the tops of his fingers.
“Heeeeeeeere he is, waiting for you.” The stockings came from his hands, and then pressed against Adelais' chest, beneath her chin. “Here we are… No, no, do not look down at him, do not fuss over him. He wishes just to sleep. Right there, tucked in with you. Leave him be, look how he wishes to rest, all ready for dreams, just like you.”
Swithin blanched and took in a long deep breath. He could almost hear the gasp of his Mam through the wooden walls of the house, and her quickend footsteps toward the bedroom, but he also heard the sound of his Pop's feet against the floor and the way he hushed her.
It was indeed eagerness which Swithin joined Adelais upon the bed. Eagerness to still her words, which she was squealing about in front of all his family. “There shall be no sharing,” Swithin stated firmly, looking toward Oswin, then back to Adelais. He knew not what words to even give her; it seemed absurd to think of bending to her desires for the state she was in now; and oh he had come too close before. He should not have obliged her; surely had she been in right mind he may have made… considerations… yet now…
“Giiiiiinger!”
Her arms were around him and her honeyed lips against his cheek, and Swithin could almost lose himself and smile for the sweetness she held; though soon again was he frowning. “My shoes are off, worry about my dress!”
“Heruthain,” he heard the sharp sound of his Mam trying to shrug Pops off in the other room.
“He made his bed. Let him lie in it,” Heruthain's voice responded, a half chuckle to the sound of it.
Not the way he had wanted them to meet her. No, not the way.
“Come on, Ginger!”
She dropped to the pillow, yawning, and her face still gleaming. Swithin felt a tug within; for even as she was, it was somewhat endearing. She was tired, he could tell by her yawn, and he wondered at what folly it would be to simply lay beside her. Pops had said to let him lie in it. He could lay there; hold her. He wanted her in his arms again.
Oh, what a want. He had never wanted something so much, he was sure. He scooted nearer the head of the bed, sitting beside her, and reached to touch her cheek. She would soon be asleep, if he waited only a moment he was sure and--.
“Wait.” Suddenly, she seemed panicked, and drew up again. Swithin's hand slipped to her shoulder, his own eyes widening again at her sudden burst of energy.
“…Where’s Hopsalot? Ginger, we can’t have the magic show without Hopsalot!”
“Magic show; is that what you're calling it?” Oswin laughed from where he had been leaning against the doorframe, watching the whole ordeal.
Swithin shot him a hard glance, though it did nothing to quell Oswin's fervor.
“He's all right,” Swithin answered, glancing to Adelis. “Hopsalot is asleep, at your Gran's and… and...” It seemed her face was contorting to what could only be tears of dismay and he breathed in deeply again, his eyes raking across the room.
She was completely plastered. And apparently wanted her rabbit. What could he do? No, he did not wish to see her tears; she had been so happy.
Hurridly did Swithin's eyes glance upon the basket of his newly laundered clothes, and there within balled together, a pair of his brown knits stockings. Worn and precariously mended, but they were clean, and the way the ends of them stuck out like ears.
“Look here… here he is!” Swithin announced suddenly, jumping up from the bed and grasping the socks. Holding them gently against his chest in two hands as if indeed it were a live rabbit. His ears poked up over the tops of his fingers.
“Heeeeeeeere he is, waiting for you.” The stockings came from his hands, and then pressed against Adelais' chest, beneath her chin. “Here we are… No, no, do not look down at him, do not fuss over him. He wishes just to sleep. Right there, tucked in with you. Leave him be, look how he wishes to rest, all ready for dreams, just like you.”