Young Rivek (17) and Willow (15). At this age, her breasts are smaller. He is shorter, thinner, and has a smaller nose.
I guess I'm using this half-marathon to work on my story as much (if not more than) my art.
Willow lifted her hand to brush the rainwater from her bangs. As a result, the hem of her ballgown fell to the ground, and a mix of slush and mud began to seep up the fabric. The other side of her dress fell victim to the dirt as she reached out to stabilize herself against a tree. Goddamn, she never liked heels to begin with. She fumbled with the handle until the heavy barn doors creaked open.
"Hey."
"What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question."
"Don't you have some official dance to be at?"
"I think I've been there long enough." She approached Rivek and swiftly stole the jesses from his hand. "That's so like you - out of bed when you most definitely haven't recovered from a head-to-toe set of third-degree burns. And to top it all off, working."
"Well, that's what a job's for, isn't it?"
She bit her lip. Figures he would hold onto anything he had left.
He turned away to continue tending to the birds. Willow indignantly wrapped the leather straps around her wrist.
"Come on," he laughed. "Need to pay my medical bills somehow."
"Just one dance."
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Okay, you win. Just one."
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