Moonlight poured through the glass window, its faintly blue tinge adding depth to the shadows and washing out all color. Johnny had pulled the curtains all the way back, clearing his view of the sky before he sat. Now the rough texture of the couch fabric pressed against the bare skin of his back and the wood floor was cold beneath one bare foot. His other leg was stretched out on the floor, ended on the braided rag rug.

With his elbow braced against his raised knee, Johnny turned his wedding ring over and over between his silver-meshed fingers, feeling every faint scratch or knick, counting the ones added since he had left RhyDin. Left Sianna behind. In the moonlight his emerald eyes were dark and unfocused.

There should have been a fire burning low to embers. Johnny let out a slow breath and tilted his head back against the seat cushion. He closed his eyes, remembered. He should be leaning against her legs. Sianna's cool fingers should be brushing his hair back from his eyes, running lightly over the stubble on his jaw. He should be able to smell the faint scent of roses that clung to her. Instead when he inhaled there was a spicy sandalwood note, the lingering trace of Sarah's perfume from where she had sat on the couch earlier in the day.

Silver-meshed fingers closed into a fist around his ring while his face twisted briefly. Finally he lifted his head from the cushion and opened his eyes, staring out the window. From this angle seated on the floor, he could just barely see the star RhyDin circled; his ring flipped over and over in his hand.

"Why're ya doin' this, Johnny? Ya know ya could buy something in th' town easy enough." Sarah picked up one of the scraps of fabric littering the kitchen table and turned it over between her fingers. Lamplight glinted off her hair, turning its ruddy hue to flame.

Johnny's jaw set in a stubborn reflex as he looked up at Sarah. Reaching up, he snatched the faded yellow-and-green print cloth from her hand and replaced it carefully on the table. "Buyin' somethin' make i' too easy. I wan' ta make'em somethin', so they know I was thinkin' abou' em."

"Well'n, why these? I mean, ya could make them something a lot better if'n ya used metal. This is more likely ta give a baby nightmares than anything." Sarah's voice was amused for all the sharpness of her words. She picked up the first completed project from the table and held it out in illustration of her point. Made of scraps and multi-colored rags raided from the rag bag, it was meant to be a teddy bear. One of the arms was longer than the other, it listed oddly to one side because of the uneven padding, and the button features on its face were lopsided at best.

"Ain' givin' them somethin' hard-like, no' til they're older. Tha' one was jus' practice, anyway. This'un's already comin' alon' better." Johnny said curtly, ending the conversation. Sarah laughed before she walked back into the living room. Johnny's blonde head bent back over the work in his hands.

Fingers that could shape and mold stone or metal with easy fumbled at this task he had never learned. The fabric shifted and moved too easily, slipping when he released his grip the least little bit. The fine thread seemed to tangle with every other stitch - as it just had in his distraction. Swearing under his breath, he began unpicking the latest snarl.

Seams ran wavering paths along the flat shape of this new bear. After all the practice of the first one, Johnny had finally learned to make small, fairly neat stitches. He hadn't yet mastered the trick of sewing in a straight line, even with a chalked-on guide. Finally untangling the knot in his thread, Johnny shoved the needle into the first hapless bear as a makeshift pincushion.

Resting his elbows on the table and pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he swore again, quietly. By now Sianna had given birth - even if the babies had come late, by now they would be born. His children born and he didn't even know their names. Sianna would be dealing with them alone, when he should be there.

Johnny inhaled deeply, scrubbing his hands over his face and back through his hair before he looked out the window. Clouds covered the sky, blocking any glimpse of Rhydin's star. After a moment, he looked back down at the spread of rags and picked up the needle again.