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The barracks were nice in the spring. They were freezing in the winter) sweltering in the summer. But now, though the room was leaning towards warm, a decent breeze blew through the cracked window.
A break between duties. A nice, simple moment to himself that didn’t happen everyday. The recharge Kyle needed, tended to need often. With his duties, it was hard to find a way to make those happen. But he would appreciate them when they did.
He puts his carving knife down to brush wood shavings off his bed. Not the best place to do this, usually favoring the chair between his bed and Forde’s, but it was comfortable. Turning his gaze back to his creation, he chews the wall of his cheek.
Ever since Syrene had given him a tiny wooden pegasus, way back when, he’d collected the little things. Eventually, when he found himself with-- god forbid, nowadays --free time, bored out of his mind, he thought that maybe he could learn to make them. With practice, he was putting out decently detailed little pieces. Once he grew technique and finer skills, they went from blocky shapes to intricately carved renditions of the creatures they were based on.
You could tell from the ones that lined his windowsill how he grew. At the very left, the prized pegasus Syrene had given him. Next to it, his first ever attempt, rigid and choppy but priceless to him. Some had definitely been chucked here and there, so the ages of the others were sporadic at best, but it was still an accurate timeline.
Especially the most recent ones, that stood out from all the others, though not from his own hand.
As recovery efforts were still in progress, the knights had less time to themselves. Forde had been complaining about his lack of painting as of late, and Kyle offered a simple solution: to paint the figurines he made. He didn’t expect Forde to dislike the idea, he just didn’t think he’d be as enthusiastic about it as he was.
The newer ones were to the right, five in total. At first, Forde had been painting them true to their real colors. But after receiving a white and blue deer from him one day, Kyle realized he was apparently getting experimental. But he didn’t mind, they were from Forde, after all. And he actually painted them quiet nicely.
And Kyle wasn’t the sentimental type, but it was...nice, kind of poetic in a way, that the figures that came after the war were the ones with colors. Or rather, the ones from after he and Forde became...how they are. He almost pushed that thought aside, but that was kind of impossible, with how many memories this room had.
(The biggest and most freshest in his mind, despite how long ago it was, was when this was actually a room of bunks for trainees. “Aren’t you just a little curious?” Kyle and Forde had shared their first kiss in this room, in the dark after their peers were all asleep, only a candlelight between them. They were young, only barely older than fourteen, in that awkward transition phase everyone had. They were clumsy and shaking, noses bumping and hands not sure where to hold. But giddy, excited. They were unsure what made it so enjoyable, the act or each other or both. They were a little too preoccupied to have given it thought in that moment, even more so to remain oblivious to the already cracked door closing quietly behind them.
“Now, I also wanted to...experiment at that age, however…”
Sure enough, they realized they’d been caught as soon as Seth pulled them aside during their training, giving them a... talk about, er, safety, and impulses. Kyle had thought he might die from embarrassment. But Forde only laughed).
Cheeks red, Kyle coughs and forces himself to return to the task at hand. The figure in his hand was still a work in progress, but...
Kyle had never tried to carve human figures before. It was...far harder than he thought, he’d never paid much mind to anatomy. The bottom, the part in his hand, was still a solid brick of wood, untouched. The top, he had attempted to carve into a head. But it had too many edges, too many little surfaces. He tries to smooth it out, cutting off the points and corners. But if he kept it up, there would be no wood left to carve.
He sighs, finding he’s lost his will to work on it further. He puts down next it’s sibling, another attempt a human prior. They looked about the same, though rough and uneven in their own ways. Maybe he can just cut the heads off and use the wood block leftover to make a smaller animal than usual. He wasn’t too upset anyways, animals were always his preferred creations. Besides, he could always try again later.
He has probably spent too much time in here anyways. Just as Kyle gets up to return to his duties, Forde enters the room, smiling brightly. “Just in time?”
“For?”
“To see you.”
“My break’s about over, actually.”
Forde pouts, though he doesn’t make a move to stop Kyle from leaving. He does, however, lean forward with lips puckered, making obnoxious kissy sounds. Rolling his eyes, he obliges, giving the other knight a quick peck. Forde makes some kind of teasing comment as he leaves, but Kyle just clears his throat. At least he was relatively unruffled, unlike how flustered even a gesture like that used to make him. It would take him minutes to regain his composure.
As he pulls his armor off, Forde notices the two abandoned projects on the other’s bed, an idea coming to mind.
Evening was about the only time they were both in the room at once, at least for more than a few seconds. Kyle would return from a dinner in the mess hall and immediately prepare to sleep, Forde jokingly calling him an old man. Forde would complain about the separate beds, and Kyle would reply that they were separate for a reason. On more than one occasion, Forde tried to convince him to push their beds together. He never succeeded. Though he has, and probably will again, convinced Kyle to cram both of them together in one bed. Not ideal, but they could make do, as long as they woke up before anyone could risk seeing them and Kyle snores a little less loud, or Forde stops stealing the damn blankets.
It was odd to see Forde there first, but he doesn’t question it, it happened sometimes. He was already in his nightclothes (a.k.a., the exact clothes he wore that day, minus his overshirt), sitting on his bed and washing some brushes.
Kyle starts to undress himself, not even needing to look over his shoulder to tell Forde to stop staring. It becomes an embarrassed yell when he gets a wolf whistle in reply to the absence of his trousers.
“You start a new project?” He asks once he’s properly dressed down, already feeling drowsy by habit.
Forde’s side of the room was always a mess of paints, brushes, charcoals, canvases. He cleaned and organized it enough to tell when something was different (Forde appreciated it, maybe too much. Kyle swears he’s doing it on purpose, just to make him clean). Aside from his hands still working dried paint out of the brushes, the still open containers of green, yellow and red on his nightstand are telling enough.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Forde tilts his head in the direction to his bed, Kyle giving him a suspicious look before he investigates.
Kyle had no idea what could have possibly be done to his bed, failing to realize had left something on his bed. His eyes catch on the scrapped wood from earlier, hands going to pick them up.
Forde had painted them, and they looked...human. In fact, they looked like...them. Oh.
“Careful, paint might still be wet.”
“Wet paint on my bed covers, fantastic.” He replies, though with none of the dry wit he intended. Kyle was too focused on turning them over in his hands, eyeing the lines of their clothes and the flat colors used to paint their hair onto the harsh surface. They looked childlike and silly...they were wonderful.
And yet, he can’t help but scoff, peering at the face on the one representing him. In thick black lines, his expression was painted on as an exaggerated “>:(“.
“I do not make that face.” Kyle says and turns to him, making that exact face.
“You’re right, I should’ve painted your smile, it’s a lot prettier. I don’t have much reference to go off of, though.”
Putting the brushes and cup of tainted water aside, Forde stands, crossing his arms and cocking a hip as he leans against his bed frame.
“I was hoping you’d actually like them.”
“Oh...Well, of course I do!” His... expression aside, they looked nice beside each other. “...Do I really make that face?”
Forde’s grin is reply enough. “It’s endearing.”
“I regret asking. Goodnight.”
“Wait! Where ya gonna put them?” Ah, right, they were still in his hands. “Or you gonna sleep with them at your side?”
“If that were the case, why would I have both?” Kyle replies, but it was a good question. It didn’t feel right putting them in the windowsill. It wasn’t just his creation, it was...too special. Ugh, he sounded like a lovesick fool, thinking that.
“Here.” Kyle puts them atop the fireplace mantle, Forde’s eyes light up.
“Aw, Kyle, right between our beds.”
“...Perhaps one on each nightstand would be better, actually.”
“No! No.” Forde says, leaning now against his side. Kyle grunts, but doesn’t move. “Keep’em together. They were made to be like that, right?”
Not at first, but he couldn’t deny he wants it any other way.