The rings were tied together with floss, tucked in a green velvet box, and were laid on Ray's night table.
They had been a year and a half in the making, really. Shifted form over time, the design smoothed, simplified and adjusted. Sized with a piece of ribbon while Ray slept - a bit of advice from Scotty, that move - and made to fit. The goldsmith had done a fine job of seeing Renfield's design to reality; there had been moments where Renfield thought he'd have to take up the craft himself, just to see it through.
Was this really it?
He would simply lay the box there and go to sleep?
Somehow it seemed far too simple to merely place them beside his Ray's sleeping form. Renfield stared beaming at the little box, tactile and soft, something that begged touching.
He bounced a little on his toes, resisting the urge to disturb its place on the tabe. Feeling the universal ripple of what he'd done. Ray slept on. It seemed the sort of thing that should've woken neighbors up. Wedding rings. Such things did not happen every day, and most certainly not to them.
Ray's birthday should be observed. Another thing that seemed strange to go unnoticed. They weren't even sure how old Ray was turning; it didn't matter. A lot of things didn't, not anymore.
Renfield was stroking the box in lieu of Ray's hair, he found after his fingers had quite decided the matter for him. He picked the box up again. It was the dark green of English ivy, creeping its way up bricks, holding on and holding in. Turned it over in his hands, stroking the soft velvet over his palm to indulge the oddly pleasing sensation.
Should there be fanfare?
Or perhaps something solemn, almost religious?
Something that would probably require Ray being awake?
Ray was beautiful. All that new hair, messy against the pillow. If Renfield had been seeking a laugh, he'd have called it a halo. He would have muttered it into Ray's ear while he was still half-asleep and gotten a wow for the level of pure cheese, and would have fallen over on Ray, laughing.
Peaceful. Ray looked honestly, truly peaceful.
Renfield kissed the little box and returned it to the table.
It was after midnight. He wouldn't sleep. He wouldn't wake Ray. So he put on his shoes, careful to be quiet, and slipped out of the room.
Ray would have a deluge of baked goods for his birthday.
They had been a year and a half in the making, really. Shifted form over time, the design smoothed, simplified and adjusted. Sized with a piece of ribbon while Ray slept - a bit of advice from Scotty, that move - and made to fit. The goldsmith had done a fine job of seeing Renfield's design to reality; there had been moments where Renfield thought he'd have to take up the craft himself, just to see it through.
Was this really it?
He would simply lay the box there and go to sleep?
Somehow it seemed far too simple to merely place them beside his Ray's sleeping form. Renfield stared beaming at the little box, tactile and soft, something that begged touching.
He bounced a little on his toes, resisting the urge to disturb its place on the tabe. Feeling the universal ripple of what he'd done. Ray slept on. It seemed the sort of thing that should've woken neighbors up. Wedding rings. Such things did not happen every day, and most certainly not to them.
Ray's birthday should be observed. Another thing that seemed strange to go unnoticed. They weren't even sure how old Ray was turning; it didn't matter. A lot of things didn't, not anymore.
Renfield was stroking the box in lieu of Ray's hair, he found after his fingers had quite decided the matter for him. He picked the box up again. It was the dark green of English ivy, creeping its way up bricks, holding on and holding in. Turned it over in his hands, stroking the soft velvet over his palm to indulge the oddly pleasing sensation.
Should there be fanfare?
Or perhaps something solemn, almost religious?
Something that would probably require Ray being awake?
Ray was beautiful. All that new hair, messy against the pillow. If Renfield had been seeking a laugh, he'd have called it a halo. He would have muttered it into Ray's ear while he was still half-asleep and gotten a wow for the level of pure cheese, and would have fallen over on Ray, laughing.
Peaceful. Ray looked honestly, truly peaceful.
Renfield kissed the little box and returned it to the table.
It was after midnight. He wouldn't sleep. He wouldn't wake Ray. So he put on his shoes, careful to be quiet, and slipped out of the room.
Ray would have a deluge of baked goods for his birthday.