openmisc | Kent/Feldspar

"Coward!" Kent calls down from the top. And then - "Holy shit!" Very excited.

He does not elaborate but Hornfels starts up the steps.

They don’t owe them anything! And silence is more damning at this point. Feldspar watches Hornfels race up the stairs, then smirks at Gossan and leaves to find Slate out in their work station.

Years of fires have banished Slate out away from the village and most of the trees, but Feldspar knows they’ve always liked it better than way anyway.

Besides. Slate won’t press them about Kent. They usually like to wait until after work’s done to chat about personal stuff, and Feldspar appreciates that now more than ever.

Kent stays with Hornfels until the evening campfire, when all everyone can talk about is the sapwine ceremony the next night. It's a big night, but Kent smiles politely past the buzz of the Heartheans. He leaves room for Feldspar beside him, holding a cluple of sticks in his hand.

He can't be expected to roast his own marshmallow!

Feldspar bounds into the circle of the campfire and easily takes their place beside Kent on a log. They pick up both sticks without a word and begin to roast two marshmallows - one for Kent, one for themselves.

“Is Porphy drunk yet?”

"Not yet. They're holding their own," he laughs. "But it won't be long now, so you're not late."

He sits back, stretching his feet out.

"So guess what I found out."

“I remember my first sip of sap wine,” they remark quietly. They’d been too young and had stolen a couple of sips and barfed in one of the geysers.

“What did you find out?”

"I can hear Eskar whistling. I was able to find that frequency and tune into it. I was trying to get the Ash Twins, but the moon rose and - bam."

He keeps his voice low, not wanting to let the others know too early.

Feldspar’s eyes widen and they lean in to ask, “wait, it’s that precise?”

They shouldn’t be surprised, Kent made it after all. It’s amazing though, incredible.

“That could make our radios so much more efficient! Gossan and I - we could track each other while we’re out there.”

"Yeah. I want to try and - track it to something. Some noise. Something - really specific. The scope could guide you. That's- what I'm hoping it will do for you."

He takes the roasting stick. "Lead you back home." He clears his throat. "Me."

They turn their head, looking at Kent as he hems and haws a little, but ultimately admits the purpose of what he’s going to build next. A road map back home, a guide rope back to Kent.

It’s dark, so the grin on their face isn’t too obvious.

“You can track my harmonica,” they tell him, sitting closer to him. “While I’m out there, you can listen for the harmonica. And I can listen for your music.”

Kent tests the marshmallow with his fingers and pulls it off the stick to eat it.

It helps.

"That's what I'm hoping. But you have to figure out how to play while you're out there."

“We can modify my helmet. Slate’s brilliant - they’ll figure out a way.”

Imagine, playing the harmonica out on Brittle Hollow or the Ash Twins. Imagine Kent sitting back on Timber Hearth hearing their harmonica, just like he would if they were sitting beside them on the top of the waterfall.

They’d be apart, but it wouldn’t feel like it. Feldspar could have a connection to the ground even if when they’re out in space - didn’t the elders always say they needed to get their head out of the clouds?

They risk being seen and tip their head closer to Kent’s, close enough that their cap touches his temple, and smile.

Kent brings up a sticky finger and taps, with expert precision, their nose.

"That's the goal. But you'll need to go out there for me. Way out to see how far we can get it."

“As if I wasn’t trying that to begin with,” they smile, wiping the melted goop off their nose.

But this is nice. Outer Wilds has always been their team, but Kent…Kent feels like a partner, like he’s in the cockpit right along with them. Together maybe they can explore the edges of the solar system.

"Yes, but now you have specific coordinates. I'm working on them. You're a great pilot, but are you precise? I guess we'll find out," he grins, elbowing them gently as Porphy comes stumbling over to them.

"You gotta try this!" they insist, shoving the bottle under Feldspar's nose. "But not this one! It's mine!"

Feldspar really wants to kiss him. Really, really, really wants to kiss him. He looks so cute in the light of the fire, and the warmth of his discovery and his gentle teasing...

Yep.

"Porphy," they tsk, getting up and taking Porphy's arm. "I've had plenty of that. Come on, pebble, let's find Marl."

"Marl! Yeah, Marl's gotta try this!"

"That's right, buddy. Say 'bye to Kent."

"Bye Kent!!! You gotta tell me more about the grain ale your people make!!"

"Yeah, yeah, come on." Feldspar chuckles and guides Porphy back to the others, letting them talking their ear off the entire time about all sorts of things - including their little crush on Gossan. Fuel for later.

Kent listens to them wander off, giving a bit of a wave as their voices fade. The wine is passed around, Kent declines, and the others roast their marshmallows and trade stories.

By the time the night is amping up, Kent has definitely had enough and he waits for Feldspar to return.

Feldspar is pulled into a dance with Gossan and then with Gneiss, but they manage to wriggle their way out of any more social interactions as the others slowly get drunker and drunker around them. They suspect the only ones who aren't as drunk as they appear are Rutile and Tektite, but that makes sense for the two older and wiser Hearthians.

They find Kent and take their hand, leaning down to whisper into their ear. "Let's sneak out of here."

Kent raises his head at the touch to his hand and nods, standing up and following. He grabs his stick on the way, but holds it close to his body, letting Feldspar lead him where he needs to go.

They hurry to leave the campfire, though they don't really care if anyone sees them leaving together. It's more that they're eager to be alone with him, to hold his hand and maybe sneak in a few kisses. Which they do when they're far enough away from the other villagers, turning and walking Kent backwards against a tree. They place their hands on his hips and lean forward to kiss them soundly.

Kent has no protests to this. The tree is firm and sturdy behind his back and he breathes it, draping one arm around his shoulders.

"What's this about?" he grins against his mouth.

They grin and nip gently at Kent's lower lip. "Because I haven't kissed you since last night." As far as they know anyway.

"And I've been wanting to."

They are strong and soft and warm, and Kent pulls them in for another kiss.

"How do I know this isn't a kidnaping, huh?"

“I don’t know what that is,” Feldspar murmurs, pressing soft kisses along Kent’s jaw. “But if you don’t want this I’ll walk you back to the campfire and you can listen to Porphy ramble about ‘bouquets’ and ‘mouthfeel’.”

"Don't be cruel," he laughs, his arms around them. "You don't want that any more than me."

He raises his chin, giving them access to his neck, to kiss him wherever.

"I'm not going anywhere."

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