I wrote a double drabble inspired by this delightful person's amazingly cool Ribbon Code that took me back into the melancholy that apparently I'm destined to write for these two.
Tucked under the billowing sleeve around his right wrist, he’s never removed them. Twin ribbons of blue loosely wound with pink, tied so tenderly while drinking wine under a late blooming tree as they talked of life and adventure. “What is this?” Gilmore asked, smiling as Vax’ildan pressed the bottle to his lips.
He offered a coy drunken smile before answering; “A message.” His face hardened slightly and he added; “A warning to any who might bring harm.”
“What does it mean?” Gilmore asked again.
Vax’ildan’s fingers reached out, caressing his wrist before tracing over the dark blue first; “You’re a trusted ally, someone I depend on.” His eyes lowered, following the track of his fingertip as it shifted to the soft pink intertwined with blue; “And a rogue’s beloved.”
The edges have frayed with the occasional worry of Gilmore’s hands over it, every time he thinks of what he’s lost, or nearly lost. Every time he thinks of dragons. A stain spreads near the knot, his own blood tinging it old crimson. He wonders idly, if Vax remembers that day in Emon as fondly as he does or if in the wake of the dragons it’s another forgotten thing.