It sounds like a dream. The dream, really. It's been long enough that his fingers are itching to get back to work, even if the rest of him hasn't caught up yet. Some restrictions will be inevitable - even at his most optimistic, he knows he's not yet steady enough on his feet to light up his forge and hammer steel - but there must be things he can manage. Readying supplies for making bullets. Determining what he'll need if he wants to create the sort of jewelry Vex deserves to wear. Laying out plans for a new device he's been daydreaming about, for close combat situations.
And, perhaps most selfishly, showing her around the space in a way he hasn't before. They have all the time in the world these days, not to mention the security of the vows they've made; he wants her to understand this part of his life better. Perhaps he could teach her the basics of his work, simply for the joy of seeing her pick it up. And eventually, she could do him the same honor: archery lessons, practice in tracking, explaining to him all the things she can read in the shape of the wilderness. Anything to know her better, and to be better known in turn.
That, however, is a conversation for tomorrow, when they've walked down to the workshop. (It's likely drafty in there, the weather being what it is, but they'll build a fire that isn't quite as hot as usual.) Right now, he catches the shift in her - the way she's trying her damnedest to look serious and failing utterly - and gives her bone-dry commentary in return.
"We've already retired to bed, Vex'ahlia," he points out, as though they're discussing the weather. He's fingering the hem of her blouse, not quite threatening to take it off her, his knuckles brushing against her bare skin by chance. "And I believe I'm allotted some light activity every day - which I haven't actually gotten, thanks to the rain. Making love to you might be a necessity when the weather's dreary, if I'm to keep up with my exercise."
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And, perhaps most selfishly, showing her around the space in a way he hasn't before. They have all the time in the world these days, not to mention the security of the vows they've made; he wants her to understand this part of his life better. Perhaps he could teach her the basics of his work, simply for the joy of seeing her pick it up. And eventually, she could do him the same honor: archery lessons, practice in tracking, explaining to him all the things she can read in the shape of the wilderness. Anything to know her better, and to be better known in turn.
That, however, is a conversation for tomorrow, when they've walked down to the workshop. (It's likely drafty in there, the weather being what it is, but they'll build a fire that isn't quite as hot as usual.) Right now, he catches the shift in her - the way she's trying her damnedest to look serious and failing utterly - and gives her bone-dry commentary in return.
"We've already retired to bed, Vex'ahlia," he points out, as though they're discussing the weather. He's fingering the hem of her blouse, not quite threatening to take it off her, his knuckles brushing against her bare skin by chance. "And I believe I'm allotted some light activity every day - which I haven't actually gotten, thanks to the rain. Making love to you might be a necessity when the weather's dreary, if I'm to keep up with my exercise."