it's a melody; it's a battle cry | childhood | for cywyllog

[cadcamlan]

Sometimes, it's just easier to play with girls.

Or, at the very least, with the particular girls he's come to know. They're strong, not silly, absolutely persons to contend with in tree-climbing and racing over rocks and arguing about the things children argue about. They smile at him. They touch his hand and his arm and his cheek and they laugh with him. They never throw rocks or words at him. He never wants to hit them. He always leaves them with a bit of a smile on his lips.

He adores them. He spends his life thankful for them. He does his best to steal away when he knows they'll be free, playing away from their nurses, making the world calm and wonderful.

Today is no exception.

The difference, today, is that he's been playing with boys all morning. He's got a cut on his lip and a bruise around his eye, is stepping only slightly more gingerly than usual as he scrambles down the rocks toward the shore. He's entirely unconscious of trying to avoid the girl closest to his own age.

He doesn't know why he dislikes the idea of Cywyllog seeing him sporting bruises. He doesn't want to think about it.

Comments

[cadcamlan]

"He is."

And it isn't a thought that hasn't occurred to the young man before. His fingers wipe out the pattern in the sand as he glances up at her properly again.

"So might your husband be."

[cywyllog]

She offers a half-hearted shrug. "He might be, he might not. You'll find a place."

[cadcamlan]

"It'll be strange. To be here without..." There's the slightest hiccough in his gesture as he shifts back onto his elbows. "...all of you."

[cywyllog]

It's a sweet thing to say, in his own strange Mordred way. "It'll be strange to be gone. I'd invite you to visit, but I'm not yet certain where I'll be going."

[cadcamlan]

The exhale is slight as he sits up more properly. "It isn't as if you're leaving tomorrow."

[cywyllog]

She giggles again, light and airy sounds almost lost into the wind.

"Goodness, no. Not until I'm sixteen, too."

[cadcamlan]

"I could be the champion of your father's court by then." Unlikely, but possible. Certainly the sort of thing he could jut his jaw out about. "Maybe I'll escort you to your new home."

[cywyllog]

"Maybe you will." It seems perfectly reasonable to her.

Then she sits up suddenly and waves, arm stretched high up into the air. "I think we're leaving now."

[cadcamlan]

It's easy enough to pull himself to his feet. With her, with her sisters, it's actually fairly natural to reach out a hand and help her up as well. "But I'll see you tomorrow?"

[cywyllog]

She takes his hand and stands, taking several moments to clean herself up as best as possible. Their nurses will still not be pleased.

"We should be here, as usual." Cywyllog gathers her shoes and starts running to catch up with her sisters, turning once to wave back at him. "Bye!"

[cadcamlan]

They're still young. There's still time before he'll stop seeing her as a friend and start really seeing her as a girl, as a woman. Until then, she'll still be one of the only people he manages brief, genuine smiles for, like now as he lifts his hand in her direction.

"Tomorrow, then."

Something to actually look forward to.