The Unknown Realm #4 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

XXXVI

Like slight drumbeats against a coat of iron, raindrops, or what one would assume were heavy dewdrops, sprinkled atop the tent roof and its casting poles.

Waverly was the first to stir awake. Even within the tent she could descry the dullness of the weather, and it made her pray with all sincerity that it would not rain that morning. Her stomach grumbled louder than a Cing's bleat, and the tiredness in her bones came as a surprise. She noticed how easily she fell into exhaustion, and how more often than not, she wanted to simply sit back and do nothing for hours. It was either one of the perks of growing older, or her body's simple way of screaming at her to take a break.

She let out a stifled yawn and shut her eyes again, wondering when Judson had draped her in his overcoat. A smile of content painted her face as she leaned down and opted to look into his face instead. He always slept peacefully, as though he was best friends with the world and had no problems in life. His neck was bent in the wrong direction, prompting Waverly to carefully correct the posture to avoid any pains when he would wake.

She admired the little yet noticable changes in his face now. He no longer looked like a child. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be growing as time passed, though rather slowly. His features were more defined, and it was quite startling how staring into his face for too long made him appear as someone else in her eyes. She had the sudden feeling that when he finally reached full maturity, he would turn out to be like one of those men that morphed into an entirely different person as grownups, leaving every and any trace of their childish likeness behind.

The thought made Waverly sad; in the sense that she would have to say goodbye to Judson's babyish, innocent features, but it also made her want to keel in excitement. She could barely wait to see the changes that would occur when he became all grown up. She wondered if he would grow a fine array of beard. Shades often grew those, like men did, but she had seen only a handful of them who actually preferred to keep facial hair. Many wished to imitate the hairless, ageless appearance of Elves; whereas others loved to associate their masculinity with beards. She wondered if Judson would be one of such. If so, then he would look entirely different from the boy she used to know.

She subconsciously began to trace a finger across his jawline and down his throat. She thought about his voice changing as an adult. Would he talk with less or more gentleness? Would his speech patterns remain the same, or would he become totally reticent? Her finger lingered on the lump in his throat; would his voice deepen? 

She gazed up at his eyebrows that always appeared brushed like a long line of trimmed bushes. His lashes finely framed his eyelid and reminded her of pen strokes done with the blackest ink. His nose ridge sloped downward like the hands on a compass pointing toward the South. His lips were slightly plump like two little sacks of ripened fruit; the lower lip appearing redder than the one above. It made Waverly think of strawberries. She tried to paint a picture of him in his thirties, but it was near impossible. All she could imagine was his face as it was – young and lovely. A living personification of beautiful youthfulness.

Her fingers rested on his cheek and only when he slowly grabbed it did she realize he was awake then, staring at her as if he had never been asleep at all.

"I dreamt that I was bent over smelling a bunch of roses." He said quietly. "Turns out it is just you."

Waverly let out a chuckle and snuggled into his embrace. Her body suddenly arched and a faint gasp escaped her when he firmly grabbed her above the waist. She stifled a laugh and gave him a gentle shove. He broke into a grin.

"Sorry." He muttered. "I forgot for a second how sensitive you are to tickles. Had it lasted a moment longer you would have brought the whole tent down."