Hushed Willows as spring opens (touching, skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

Kincaid's sloe eyes crinkled at the corners when she seemed to appreciate the joke. He was growing ever more comfortable in her presence as it became more and more clear they were well matched. Part of him was even starting to think — to hope! — that something more might come out of this. Something meaningful.

In the mean time, it meant enough to him just to have her around. "Why Eleuthera," he said in faux indignation, "Are you callin' me old, now? Darlin', I'm in the prime of my life."

Debatable. He flashed her another grin as they set off, presumeably to better hunting grounds, or at least someplace less sacred, so that they did not have to worry about disturbing maternal spirits. (He cast a glance over his shoulder, at that thought, and wondered shrewdly if Eleuthera's "mothers" would have been cheering them on or rolling in their graves.)

"Y'know, it makes me think of a song, when you put it like that," he told her, and sang a little part of a song that likened love and life and the enjoyment of such things to a fine wine, growing sweeter with age:

I love bein' in love
it's the best kinda drug
drunk on the high, leanin' on your shoulder
sweet like wine as it gets older
when I die, I don't wanna go sober

✹☾❂

 

Kincaid was funny; silly in a way that wasn’t foolish. Eleuthera was all too happy to listen to the drawl of his voice, appreciating his small jokes here and there. Though Kincaid was certainly older than her, Eleuthera was certain that he was, truly, in his experienced prime. She felt grateful to be with this man at this point in his life, where she might be able to glean a little something from the rich, woven fabric of his life’s tapestry.

“Hahaha, you know? Me too." she had been feeling like this new chapter of her life, the one she had begun only recently, might be her best one yet. Hopefully.

If she liked the sound of Kincaid’s voice when he talked, then she was overly delighted when he began to sing — about love! Was there anything better than a cowboy, crooning about a love that was sweet than wine? If there was, Eleuthera didn’t care. The smile upon her face was radiant, lighting up her entire body in a sheen of being cosseted and cared for. She was a thing made to be loved and appreciated, and she felt it here and now in a way that she had been missing. So what if they scared away any and all possible prey with this singing, laughing and dancing? 

Even when they grabbed something quick from the cache, as they did this evening, it was something that nourished the lilac woman far more than food alone possibly ever could.