Story Setting - Peyton and Peidyn
"Best behaviour, alright?"
"Yes, Peyton/Peidyn," Lars and Louis/Leila drone.
"I mean it, no shenanigans, no fights. The pair of you should be setting a good example, not a cautionary tale."
My little one giggles from their spot on my lap as we watch on.
"I don't want to hear from Eylmer and Joyce that you've been less than perfect guests."
"Yes, Fæder/Módor."
Peyton/Peidyn sighs, a wry smile hidden behind their palm. "Off with the lot of you, before I change my mind."
My little one gives me a parting hug before accepting a piggyback from Louis/Leila.
"Be good!" I call after the three of them.
"We will!"
As the front door closes, and the yipping giggles and laughter filters in from outside, Peyton/Peidyn takes the seat beside mine, propping their chin up on the heel of their hand.
"Remind me, when was it that I adopted those two?"
I rest my hand on their shoulder, my fingers immediately finding stiffening muscle and tension. "About a week after they first walked through your door. They'll be fine."
Peyton/Peidyn huffs, then they smile. "Kicking the children out of the house for the night? For all the stress, it's worth it." They gather up the hand that rests on my shoulder, and brush their lips over my knuckles. "Shall we get started?"
Our meal is simple; vegetable stew with barley, freshly baked bread, and a quart of cider to share. Simple, and yet it is so much more than it has rights to be. We work together in a constant flow, our currents entwining then parting as we tease and encourage one another with small touches and glances. When Peyton/Peidyn asks me to taste the stew, they find an excuse to brush their thumb over my hip bone, their warm arm across my lower back, barely touching but still a pressure against my skin.
We eat at the table by candlelight, our faces smudged in shadow, our eyes aglow. Peyton/Peidyn sits beside me, as always, their arm skimming mine as they lift the spoon to their lips.
---
Extrovert
We leave the chores for the morning, stacking our things in the sink and brushing away any flour that clings to our clothes or hair.
"Should we change?" I ask.
"No, we'll pass Myrna's scrutiny." Peyton/Peidyn cups my jaw and kisses my cheek to prove it. "You could draped in a whole sack of flour and still be stunning."
I bat them playfully away. "Flatterer."
We leave the lodging house, hiding the key behind a loose brick in the wall for the others. The night is cool, but pleasant, the stars above twinkling down as we make our way across the Ash bridge and towards the thrum of music.
The dance has already spilled out into the market square, the musicians arranged upon the back of a hay-cart, the folk of the town a twirl below.
Peyton/Peidyn waves and nods to their cousins, and we both send our greetings to Ana/Abe and Erda when we spy them stood outside the shop.
"There's always a greater chance for injury when you mix drink with dancing," the old cunning woman had pronounced a few days ago. From first glance, it seems injury and accident have been avoided thus far. Long may that continue.
Peyton/Peidyn and I step up to the edge of the fray.
Panic flares within me when I feel their hand leave mine, but it is banished when I catch the gleam of their smile. Their locks of red and rust sweep low as they bow to me, their grey eyes gold in lantern light when they look up, and when they speak it is with the purr of storm and promise that makes my Feorh sore.
"Dance with me?"
And truly, what can I do, but let their tide carry me on?
---
Introvert
The night is ours, so we bask in it, in each other. Chores are sweetened by kisses, the washing by their arms around my waist, their breath upon my neck. When all is tidy, we sit before the fire, wrapped around one another, and share the warmth.
"This is enough," Peyton/Peidyn whispers.
"Hmm?"
"This. You, me, this." They tighten their embrace for a moment and kiss my neck. "It's enough, isn't it?"
"It is," I reply, pressing my lips to the hollow of their throat, their pulse rising to greet me as I linger. "It is."
---
Image courtesy of Annie Spratt on Unsplash