#rivervale_lodge

And so it is, that, almost thick as thieves... so unlike them, Brekke and Frank slip out to their ship, the Kestrel

Kerri makes sure to run interference should any try to waylay the two of them on the way out.

Upon deck, Brekke gives Frank an almost guilty grin. "It will be a good night for flight."

Frank nods. "It will. And past due." gently chiding.

The Kestrel has been kept in excellent repair. Siv knows not to fly it anymore, as far as they know, but she does keep it clean and the ropes regular, albeit with her mom's help

"Yeees," Brekke says in response to the mild scolding. "I have been busy. But I did not mean to neglect you, My Heart."

"Nor I you." He is working to prepare the ship for departure. "My work has made our time together rarer. I regret that."

She is also preparing the ship. "It is the way of things." A pause. "There have been periods in our lives when we had much less time together."

He works quietly for a moment.

"True."

She finishes stowing some coiled rope and turns to him. "Ready?"

He nods. "Aye, Captain."

"Then..." she reaches to take his hand. "Let us depart."

And soon the Kestrel is in the air.

They're both wrapped up warm against the chill night air, which is safer for a flying ship like this. Frank moves with surety born of long practice around the deck, trimming sails.

The Kestrel moves with a lazy joy, as if just being in the sky once more is a gift

Brekke and Frank fall into familiar, comfortable rhythms of shipboard work.

And it's so peaceful, the view of the lodge below, and the land around it, preserved against casual sububan sprawl coming ito full view

Before long, they've achieved what serves as cruising altitude for the Kestrel, and veiled from mortal view.

The clouds, liberated from the reach of the banal, show shapes formed of young imaginings..

one looks like a donut with extra sprinkles

An amused sound, and she points it out to Frank.

Frank's beard moves; sweet dreams, indeed.

Before long, they discover the basket that Kerri made sure to stow on the ship for them. A light feast (for trolls) and bottles of ale and cider.

Trust the Hearth to know the little touches

"Hungry?" Frank offers.

"Mm." She nods. "Cider? Ale?" She offers to pour him his choice.

"Cider, please." he unpacks the hamper.

A horn of cider for him, one of ale for her. She offers him his when his hands are free.

"Kerri seems to think we were off for a longer journey," Brekke observes, noting the quantity of food.

A low chuckle. "She is a generous soul."

"Thank you."taking the horn.

"Truth," Brekke nods agreement, lowering herself to take a seat on the deck by him. She continues to watch the skies as any good sailor keeps watch on the weather, but she is not on high alert.

Frank settles next to her.

She raises her horn to him. "To you, my heart," she says quietly. She's never had much luck with attempting flowery toasts.

more cloud formations of great horses riding the skies, and even birds in flight... chimerical birds some times shoot by of great color, eagerly calling for spring to please come back

"Mm... to you, My Alaska."

She drinks and watches the colorful chimerae.

Frank takes a sip "Things are well?"

"Well enough. A warmer winter than I would like, but well enough. Yourself?"