Johnny had been restless and his sleep had been light and uneasy. When he woke and the moonlight still poured through the window, he knew he would not fall back to sleep easily. As quietly as he was able he sat and swung his legs from the bed, easing out to leave Sianna sprawled asleep. He watched her for a few moments with a smile before he padded out of the bedroom and down the stairs toward the kitchen. He didn't often prepare tea for himself, but it seemed appealing tonight.
The sudden chill of his absence nudged at her, slipping down her back like a bead of cold rain down a windowpane. Flopping onto her back, one arm searched blindly for feel of him. Coming up empty, one eye opened slowly, adjusting to the silver glow of the room. "Johnny....?" Her voice sought him out.
He was already adding water to the kettle and setting it to heat, and her soft voice didn't carry down the stairs. Bare feet, bare chest, he sat at the kitchen table with a mug prepared and waiting for the water to boil. He ran one hand back through hair already rumpled from his restless sleep, and his emerald eyes turned in the direction of the Marketplace, as if he could see through all the obstacles and distance in the way to the house his mother and sisters occupied.
Sitting up to the side of the bed, she grabbed her worn woolen wrap and slipped downstairs. The cold wood floor made her toes tingle and she moved quickly, grateful for the interspersed area rugs strewn about. Pulling up shortly in the kitchen's archway, she watched him a moment, her mind's eye picturing him as a small lad, similarly tousled after sleep. "Can ye no' keep it from yer mind, mo chridhe?" Her voice was soft, gentle.
At her gentle voice he turned to look at her with a sad smile, unsurprised at her insight as to the reason behind his roaming. The tumble of her curls in the disarray of waking and the way she stood huddled in the wrap eased his smile to one more true, and he held out his hand to her, inviting her to him. "Nah, I can' seem ta. Don' understan' why people do things like tha' - an' I keep turnin' it over in m' head, askin' m'ma an' sisters ta consider movin' out ta th' farm fer a while, at least. 'Tain' safe tha' close ta th' square no more."
The sudden chill of his absence nudged at her, slipping down her back like a bead of cold rain down a windowpane. Flopping onto her back, one arm searched blindly for feel of him. Coming up empty, one eye opened slowly, adjusting to the silver glow of the room. "Johnny....?" Her voice sought him out.
He was already adding water to the kettle and setting it to heat, and her soft voice didn't carry down the stairs. Bare feet, bare chest, he sat at the kitchen table with a mug prepared and waiting for the water to boil. He ran one hand back through hair already rumpled from his restless sleep, and his emerald eyes turned in the direction of the Marketplace, as if he could see through all the obstacles and distance in the way to the house his mother and sisters occupied.
Sitting up to the side of the bed, she grabbed her worn woolen wrap and slipped downstairs. The cold wood floor made her toes tingle and she moved quickly, grateful for the interspersed area rugs strewn about. Pulling up shortly in the kitchen's archway, she watched him a moment, her mind's eye picturing him as a small lad, similarly tousled after sleep. "Can ye no' keep it from yer mind, mo chridhe?" Her voice was soft, gentle.
At her gentle voice he turned to look at her with a sad smile, unsurprised at her insight as to the reason behind his roaming. The tumble of her curls in the disarray of waking and the way she stood huddled in the wrap eased his smile to one more true, and he held out his hand to her, inviting her to him. "Nah, I can' seem ta. Don' understan' why people do things like tha' - an' I keep turnin' it over in m' head, askin' m'ma an' sisters ta consider movin' out ta th' farm fer a while, at least. 'Tain' safe tha' close ta th' square no more."