(Untitled)

[an_evening_star]

The time passes slowly as Sal's caravan creaks its way back toward Wall, and Yvaine has lost track of the exact passing of days and hours and minutes. They seem to blend indecipherably into each other - resting as the woman drives and making her careful way up onto the wagon's roof while the woman sleeps, head tilted up at the sky and nighttime

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[tristranthorn]

As per usual, Tristran doesn't respond right away. Crawling on all fours, he comes to sniff her, then walks off towards the other side of the cage where there is a small (somewhat dirty) gathering of straw bits.

[tristranthorn]

Tristran seems to be reassured by this - well, as reassured as a dormouse can be under the circumstances.

Moving lightly across her shoulder and down her arm, his feet move one after the other until he is back, more or less in her hand. It takes him several moments, considering how large she is in comparison to him and a few slip-ups, in which he almost falls over or loses his grip.

[an_evening_star]

The star monitors his progress with an unusual attention to detail - she had promised not to drop him, after all - and arcs an eyebrow at him when he's finished. She's somehow certain that there were easier ways of doing that.

Then again, he would hardly be Tristran at all if he made things simple.

"I am going to miss you," she concludes. "When you are hers."

And, somewhere in her, that tiny little voice chimes, 'I would do it better. Let me?' But she still has her pride - what little of it is left. She isn't quite ready to beg.

A quiet laugh, lips tugging up wryly, "I speak as though you have been mine."

[tristranthorn]

Tristran makes no indication to show that he has heard her as he crawls back into her lap, sniffing about curiously and not without the slightest bit of indifference.

He approaches her fingers again, seeking that warmth, paws using her fingers as leverage to stand while his nose continues to twitch, taking everything in through smell as opposed to sight.

[an_evening_star]

"And I continue to justify myself to a mouse."

She shakes her head, fingers curling lightly around him almost reflexively.

"There is something very sincerely wrong with this," she says, voice quietly amused and barely carrying. "Or at least one should find something wrong with this."

She doesn't seem too terribly bothered, all things considered.

[tristranthorn]

Tristran is hardly bothered either. Shrinking back down, all four paws on the fabric of her dress, the little dormouse curls into a ball.

He's getting rather tired.

[an_evening_star]

"It is comforting to know that some things have not changed," she says dryly, with a roll of her eyes. "Eat and then sleep, Tristran. You are getting predictable in your old age."

She can't really help but smile - she's getting rather used to it.

"A song then, do you think?"

[tristranthorn]

Tristran's little form nuzzles himself against her dress, small black eyes slowly closing.

A song would be nice.

[an_evening_star]

"I will take that as a yes," she replies, voice already sliding into that strange sort of something else.

It's a quiet lullaby, strange and filled with dark skies and bright lights and the dizzy tumbling she's become increasingly familiar with. And maybe - just a little, mind you - maybe it's a love song.

[tristranthorn]

It is a beautiful song.

A most beautiful song that makes the little mouse perk awake once more -- that blurriness gone for the most part -- but only for a moment. And then it is all mousiness once more.

Eyes closed, he rests.