Status Updates From Honeysuckle

In Rory's head, the new solution was instantaneous--the transition, this last transition of its kind, a clear line of demarcation between dependence and freedom. Instead, he was now faced with weeks, possibly months, of teaching before he'd know if it even worked. It made him tired just thinking about it.
So for the rest of the weekend, Rory tried to teach Daye the basics of weaving.

Boo, Rory is such a loser

🫩 My guy... Be so for real

It was a long, warm day. The sun was just starting to slant downward and the fortress was still filled with a day's worth of drowsy, wood-scented heat. Daye was sprawled on the floor, lost in thoughts or dozing--Rory couldn't tell from this angle. A gloaming wind ruffled the surface of the pond. It swept through the open window, licking a path of goose bumps across Rory's forearms.