fables drabble for Livvy;
My first! ever! non-PoT drabble on this journal. And the third ever done, the other two being Harry Potter and Hanakimi respectively.
She looks at the bandage wrapped around his hand, changed not two hours ago and already browning at the edges from soil and sweat; she thinks of a peeled apple left out in the air to oxidise.
“I used to think you were irresponsible, you know.” Boy Blue looks up at the sound of her voice. “Sheep in the meadow and cows in the corn and all that.”
“You’re a fine one to talk, Red,” he retorts, but there is no acid in his tone, only a sort of wry, ironic amusement that makes her smile.
“I don’t think they’d have appreciated jazz, anyway.” She carefully doesn’t look at his fingers, loosely curled around the handle of the spade, so badly broken by the Baba Yaga that nobody’s sure if he can ever play any more.
He grins at her, absently pushing back his fringe from where it has fallen over his forehead, his hand trailing a streak of dirt in its wake. “Well, I’m sure you can. Tonight down at the barn the band’s playing, if you want.”
“Clean your nails first, honey,” she tosses over her shoulder, blowing a kiss from lips redder than her name for good measure.