Drabble: Golden
Title: Golden
Rating: K+
Word count: 237
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Marian, Guy/Marian
Summary: A little snapshot, certainly AU, maybe fluff. Possibly fluff.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to legend and this particular version to the Beeb. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
From behind his closed eyelids, the world is flaxen-coloured and hazy. Beyond their veil the trees will be coloured a spring-green, with maybe a few berries in them. Bright berries peeking through the branches like glittering gemstones. And the sky will be blue with some puffs of cloud here and there, because that is what she told him and he is content to have these images of her words in his mind.
He will gladly have her paint whole landscapes over the wastelands he knows, and live in them.
And so he keeps his eyes closed. It is a pleasant feeling to find out that doing so helps him feel other things better. Like the warmth of the sun resting on his skin. The rhythmic movements of her fingers winnowing through his hair. The comfort of her lap beneath his head.
The gradual drift into the peaceful place between consciousness and slumber is inevitable. He tries to resist the feeling. Moments like these, he tells himself, are too important to be lost to sleep.
At length, he forces himself to open his eyes. Her face is half-shaded, her hair and outline burned a reddish gold by the sunlight behind. He discerns the gentle smile on her face and his lips form in a similar response.
Golden, he thinks. Precious.
He stops the moment and letting his eyes close, stores it away as some tapestry in his heart.
Rating: K+
Word count: 237
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Marian, Guy/Marian
Summary: A little snapshot, certainly AU, maybe fluff. Possibly fluff.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to legend and this particular version to the Beeb. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
From behind his closed eyelids, the world is flaxen-coloured and hazy. Beyond their veil the trees will be coloured a spring-green, with maybe a few berries in them. Bright berries peeking through the branches like glittering gemstones. And the sky will be blue with some puffs of cloud here and there, because that is what she told him and he is content to have these images of her words in his mind.
He will gladly have her paint whole landscapes over the wastelands he knows, and live in them.
And so he keeps his eyes closed. It is a pleasant feeling to find out that doing so helps him feel other things better. Like the warmth of the sun resting on his skin. The rhythmic movements of her fingers winnowing through his hair. The comfort of her lap beneath his head.
The gradual drift into the peaceful place between consciousness and slumber is inevitable. He tries to resist the feeling. Moments like these, he tells himself, are too important to be lost to sleep.
At length, he forces himself to open his eyes. Her face is half-shaded, her hair and outline burned a reddish gold by the sunlight behind. He discerns the gentle smile on her face and his lips form in a similar response.
Golden, he thinks. Precious.
He stops the moment and letting his eyes close, stores it away as some tapestry in his heart.