Drabble: Palm
Title: Palm
Rating: K+
Word count: 325
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Marian, Guy/Marian
Summary: Companion piece to 'golden'.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to legend and this particular version to the Beeb. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
The ache starts to spread through her folded legs and she feels a knot of stiffness settle in her knees. His head is heavy in her lap but she hesitates before waking him because his breathing is gentle and his face is relaxed. She thinks of his sunken, dark-edged eyes, of how quiet rest only comes in these stolen moments and never during the cold nights at the castle.
She chooses to let him sleep and leans back on her hands.
Her gaze swerves to the landscape around- from the undiluted sky, to the glowing fingers smeared on both sides of the sun, to the small buttercups and marigolds of the meadow which shimmer like fireflies. She thinks she envies them a little, their unmitigated pureness, their need for being nothing but themselves, while she has to disguise herself under the cover of emotions, everywhere but here. Always but for when it's only the two of them together.
Her eyes eventually travel to the fresh cut on his cheek. She hates it for what it is; a small reminder of what careless freedom will do to them.
A feeling of slight hopelessness ebbs over her, and she seeks out his hand where it rests beside her legs. Gently opening the curled fingers, she brings the palm to her mouth and kisses it. Anchor, she thinks, because his hand is warm and solid and she can believe that she will always hold it (tightly) as they sail over dark, dark seas.
She knows he believes the same though he's never said it, and that's fine because they've never been good with words anyway. Words also have a habit of wandering too close to the topic of an uncertain future, to the jeopardies which surround their relationship. And maybe their words have not yet quite absolved themselves of the deceptions they so often aided in the past.
They like the art of gestures, simple and untainted, better.
Rating: K+
Word count: 325
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Marian, Guy/Marian
Summary: Companion piece to 'golden'.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to legend and this particular version to the Beeb. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
The ache starts to spread through her folded legs and she feels a knot of stiffness settle in her knees. His head is heavy in her lap but she hesitates before waking him because his breathing is gentle and his face is relaxed. She thinks of his sunken, dark-edged eyes, of how quiet rest only comes in these stolen moments and never during the cold nights at the castle.
She chooses to let him sleep and leans back on her hands.
Her gaze swerves to the landscape around- from the undiluted sky, to the glowing fingers smeared on both sides of the sun, to the small buttercups and marigolds of the meadow which shimmer like fireflies. She thinks she envies them a little, their unmitigated pureness, their need for being nothing but themselves, while she has to disguise herself under the cover of emotions, everywhere but here. Always but for when it's only the two of them together.
Her eyes eventually travel to the fresh cut on his cheek. She hates it for what it is; a small reminder of what careless freedom will do to them.
A feeling of slight hopelessness ebbs over her, and she seeks out his hand where it rests beside her legs. Gently opening the curled fingers, she brings the palm to her mouth and kisses it. Anchor, she thinks, because his hand is warm and solid and she can believe that she will always hold it (tightly) as they sail over dark, dark seas.
She knows he believes the same though he's never said it, and that's fine because they've never been good with words anyway. Words also have a habit of wandering too close to the topic of an uncertain future, to the jeopardies which surround their relationship. And maybe their words have not yet quite absolved themselves of the deceptions they so often aided in the past.
They like the art of gestures, simple and untainted, better.