Hiraeth

{4} For Immy

Dorian awoke to birds singing outside of the rustic window in the living room. It was barely morning - the sun was only just peaking over the hilly horizon, but he got up anyway. His head hurt slightly and for a moment he had four hands instead of two, but he soon planted his feet on the carpet and got dressed. He threw on a forest green t-shirt and black pleated trousers accompanied by sage slip-ons and a chocolate belt. Before leaving the room, he looked at the small hanging mirror and realised why his head hurt. It was clear that he had cried more than he could consciously remember the night before, so his eyes were now puffy and red, and a small vein was protruding from his forehead, mimicking the pulsating ache he was feeling. He knew he needed to get rid of these symptoms before Immy or Conan saw but he could live with it for now.

His intention was to go out and sit with Fable for a while, but he soon remembered that his unwelcomed guests were staying in tents around there, so he swiftly changed his plans and decided to just walk. He didn't walk very far however as he soon found a secluded patch of grass in the trees just around from his cottage. He sat down and picked at the green shoots, snapping the small blades with his fingernails or catching the falling dew from the tips. Just mindless fidgeting while he calmed down from the events of the past day.

The weather was pleasant for a morning. It was cold, but the kind of cold that wakes you up rather than the kind that makes you shiver. But not like a slap to the face wake up, it was like being woken up for school when you're young. When your mother pats your back or flutters you with kisses and you rub at your eyes and yawn and then smile as she carries you down for breakfast. Yeah, that's the sensation the gentle wind was providing for Dorian at that moment.

He lay down on the damp grass and stared up at the sky, which was a brilliant orange by this time, and he estimated it to be around 5:30am. Collections of clouds were catching colour, turning lemon or lime as the light reflected off the dazzling sun. The whole picture above the man's head looked like the fruit bowl in his kitchen and he wondered if he was conscious enough to take a mental picture so he could paint it later. He framed the skyscape with his fingers but heard someone clearing their throat, so he sat up on his elbows.

Imogen was looking at her feet anxiously and playing with the hem of her coat which she had layered on top of her nightgown. She looked tired. Her eyes looked up at her brother who said nothing but encouraged her to lie down with him. She smiled and did just that. The pair lay in content silence for a while, both admiring the view of the rapidly changing sky and enjoying each other's company.

Dorian gradually became aware that his companion was now resting on her arm facing him, so he turned over to do the same. Immy looked guilty for ruining the moment but spoke anyway.

"I need to talk to you about yesterday."

"Okay," her brother sighed, swinging his legs round and forcing himself to sit up cross-legged. Immy did the same. She looked at him, then paused.

"Have you been crying?"

"No. Just allergies."

"Mmmh."

Another long pause.

"I think you should hear him out."

"Ummmm no."

"Come on Dorian! Out of all the people in the world, he comes to you for help. Surely that must mean something."

"No! It doesn't mean squat. You heard him, he's only here because of my super brain."

"That is definitely not what he said."

"Is too!"

"Is not!"