Caspian’s voice was perhaps one of the few things he liked to show off when given the chance. He was musically gifted and felt no shame in belting out a tune every now and then. But tonight he was inclined not to. The fire place in front of his couch burned with a heat he drank in easily. Sweat pants hung on his hips as he walked back over to the couch and offered Riley a cup of hot chocolate. He decided to forgo the chai tonight, instead following his sister’s lead and taking to a hot cup of melted chocolate and milk.
To match the fire before them was a few candles lit along tables and ledges surrounding the comfy room. It always got dark early this time of year. The pair had been in a sleepy state of relaxation since the sun went to rest at 4pm this after noon. With pizza on the way, Caspian and Riley had opted for a no technology night. They did this once and awhile. Riley spent so much time working with it she often said she liked a break; and Caspian? Well, he was never all that into it in the first place. On these nights they spent hours talking. About religion and life. Politics and love. Stories that make you smile, stories that make you cry. Wishes, dreams, wonders of grandeur and everything in between.
Phones left on the kitchen island, Caspian decided to pick up his guitar on the other side of the living room. He sat himself down with legs crossed. Sitting on the floor with his back against the foot of the couch, he slowly plucked at the strings, letting the soothing noise bounce off the walls of the living room.
Outside, seen from the big back window of Caspian’s town home, there were fat flakes of falling snow gliding down through the air. Drifting slowly and uninterrupted by the wind. Slowly he rocks on his rump from side to side, music drowning out everything save the crackle of wood in the fire place. When Riley’s voice rose to meet the melody he tried not to act surprised. He continued playing, listening to her high and sweet voice echo off the walls of his home. He swayed and closed his eyes. In parts he could feel his throat tightening and eyes watering from the emotion heard in her voice. He forgets she can sing. So often he’s the one doing so that he doesn’t think of the talent contained in her small ribcage.
And slowly as her song comes to an end, Caspian’s fingers grow still against the strings. The guitar hums to itself while everything else goes quiet.
❝ I always forget you can sing. ❞ He says then, his voice a little hoarse from not having been used coupled with the dry heat of the fire place. Tongue licks at his lips as head lifts and golden eyes turn towards her. Hair tumbles into his face before fingers are able to tuck it back behind his ear. Leaning forward on his guitar the hollow body of makes a hollow creak. Fire’s light dances along his form, painting rich colours across dark skin and painting his already golden eyes with a vibrance that might be matched with the Gods’. His smile is soft and filled with fondness, as it always is. But he finds it’s these times of connection that he feels it more.
Never has his heart thought of her as more than simply someone to love in the most innocent of ways. But he does love her. He does think she’s beautiful. Especially when red fire plays against the strands of her red hair; her freckles like embers caught in the act of rising up in the steam. Graciousness and slow-burning passion tangle in her eyes. He wonders, as he looks at her, if phenixes are known to this kind.
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