From Grief to Colour| ✓

XX- Tears of Stars

When I wake, I'm back in my room. Wait, no. I'm in the garden. The scent of lilies and lavender heavily intoxicated the air, the familiar green domed around me as I recognized the ivy curling around metal frames hoisting thick leather swings. The sun is just rising, it's golden fingers slowing streaming through the panels of glass and reflecting off the moist morning dew in the plants surround me. I turn to hoist myself up until I realized someone brought me here.

Then I felt the texture of silk fabric under my fingers, shockingly different to the rough texture of the grass, and the bumpiness of what I'm leaning on. I immediately sit up to find a passed out Trevor, softly snoring away the morning rise of the the sun with his left arm formerly wrapped around my shoulders. We had been sleeping on a square fabric big enough for the two of us, like an extra-large picnic blanket.

I drew a sharp breath in, as this is such a dangerous place for people to sleep in: no barriers, open to the wild air and sealed off to non-royals. Trevor could get in trouble.

But then again...

I turn to the entrance watching it for any passers-by, and chanted a little incantation to hide away from anyone, the same spell I did when we were training a day before.

I sigh as I carefully get up, taking care to not make any fusses of noise with my thickly layered dress and trailed my way over to the frameless windows, watching the cornflower blue sky be welcomed by ribbons of blushes and yellows made of the sun's gaze. Little doves and pigeons fly in groups across the mountains that guard the horizon, poking the lowest of the skies like rough turrets that stretch across the earth, shadows and lights casting shade over its pores and stony brooks.

I strife a yawn as the warmth of the sun finally registers my body and sweeps into my bones, rolling my shoulders to get it in all the right spots. My head feels sore from sleeping in with pins still up in my hair, pulling out several of them at a time before my hair is set free, tumbling in dark curls over the sides of my shoulders.

As I massage my hair and comb through its messy state, I hear a moan behind me and soft whispers of a chuckle ring behind me. I spin around, to see Trevor sighing in comfort as he rubs his hands through his dark hair, propping himself up by his elbows.

"Good morning." He growls, giving a slight cough. His voice sounds a bit strained, possibly from dehydration.

I chuckle as I tell him good morning, summoning two glasses of water to our picnic blanket. Trevor nods me a 'thanks' as he takes a long sip to refresh his throat from one. I take a sip too. I clear my throat as my throat takes on to much water from one gulp.

"Your magic is getting better." Trevor smiles.

I give a small grin back, "Thanks."

I summon a small breeze to travel through the hedges and mingle with the still autumn air coping up in here, "Although I can do so much more."

He gives out soft chuckle, looking at his glass.

Licking my lips and taking another sip, I stare discreetly at Trevor while he is busy playing with his glass.

His soft eyes are droopy, mildly affected by the recent wake from a well-rested sleep. His freckles are only barely visible against his mildly tan and rosy complexion, but noticeable as a spray of them occupy a bar of his nose and under his eyes. His dark chestnut hair is now ruffled in a effortless messy style that my teenager self would have swoon over to touch at. His broad shoulders remain strong and poised, his arms mildly muscular due to all the heavy work of the General.

I've always wondered why I kept on looking at those eyes of his, damning me every time I see them. Is it because the natural complexity of the way his eyes sparkle with the colours of his eyes that reflect off an infinite blue sky makes me happy and reminds me of a optimistic childhood? Or the way his eyes really are the windows to his soul, like how to me, his eyes reflect his humane humility and good charm? I roll my eyes at my thoughts.