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[Adrian Bishop]

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“Don’t fly, mister blue bird, I’m just walking down the road,
Early morning sunshine tell me all I need to know.
You’re my blue Skyyyye, you’re my sunny day“

Adrian sang and swayed, sitting on the log next to his cousin, bumping Eathain’s shoulder mirthfully each time he swayed to the left.

“You see what I did there?” he chuckled, nudging Eathain again.

Eathain shook his head and chuckled. “You’re a hopeless case, Adrian.”

But did I tell you how beautiful she is…” Adrian began.

“Only three and twenty times, now, Cousin.”

“Ah Eathain, if you’d only seen her. Her eyes are the colour of the tempest. Her skin is the palest, the finest…” Adrian haltingly searched for the right word as he rubbed his fingertips against his thumb. “…the finest silk.”

Eathain rolled his eyes and grinned broadly. “Meghann’s skin was the finest satin, and Nicolette’s eyes were the colour of the pale blue sky. And what came of them? You never said a word. They met and went unto their respective husbands and forgot you existed, if they ever knew to begin with.”

Adrian grimaced. “They were different.”

“Aye, they were. They were not Sanctans,” Eathain replied. “Are you now so easily enamored that you consider not the complications and implications of your actions?”

Adrian stood and began to pace before the campfire, with each step shuffling dust over the circles that his walking stick left as he walked. It was a habit Eathain recognized from long years of talking with his cousin over issues that excited or agitated Adrian.

“Are you so far removed from your youth, Eathain? Do you not remember a time when your blood flowed fiercely and hotly through your veins and urged you to follow your heart?”

“Don’t you mean loins?” Eathain retorted.

Adrian halted and shot an icy glare at his cousin. “You know it’s not even remotely like that.”

“It’s how they’ll see it. It’s how everyone will see it. You’ve been around long enough to know how the world works, Adrian.”

Adrian clenched his teeth, but slowly released the tightness in his jaw and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Cousin. You know I’m right. She’s a Sanctan. And she’s too young. Give her a few years,” Eathain reasoned.

“For what, so that she can find a husband like the others? She will, you know. It’s just a matter of time.”

Eathain sighed heavily and looked into the fire. “I want you to be happy, Cousin. More than anything in the world….” He left the rest silently inferred as he turned his gaze to Adrian’s furrowed brow. He watched as Adrian ran a long thin braid between his fingertips, tugging and twisting it thoughtfully.

Finally, Adrian responded. “Guess it’s nothing I didn’t already know.” Resignedly, Adrian wandered off into the woods beyond his tent.

Eathain watched him go and shook his head, speaking softly to himself. “Of all the lasses to finally make a play for. A young Sanctan. They’d chase you out of town with torches and pitchforks. And I thought you couldn’t hold your liquour before. Just wait till you’re full of holes.”