Yes, I own them. I've stolen them and I'm hiding them in a shoebox under my bed. Shh – no-one's noticed they're gone yet!

xX Long Sighted Xx

Raffix Emilius was short-sighted. It was something of a trial for an aspiring Knight Academic, to be unable to see the distant clouds of an approaching storm as anything but blue-grey blurs without the aid of eyeglasses. But the glasses served their purpose well enough, and with them his vision was as good as anyone else's. At short range he didn't even need them; which was precisely why they were resting of the desk at the other side of the sleeping closet at that particular moment. They could only have gotten in the way.

Besides, sight was the least of the senses in the warm darkness. Far more important was the sound of soft breathing and sleep-murmured nonsense, the scent of woodpine soap and musk and sweat. The feel of callused skin and incongruously soft hair. The taste…oh Earth and Sky, the taste

Quint, on the other hand, he would have said was long-sighted. Unfortunately it was an affliction of the mind, not of the eyes, and no device could correct it. Quint saw the big picture, the grand design, but was blind to small details. His utter inability to see what was right under his nose was as endearing as it was infuriating. Maris was a case in point. A blind man could see that the two were made for each other, yet they seemed unable to. He was convinced her affection for him was only sisterly, and so gave nothing more than brotherly affection in return. She could hardly be blamed for being wary, loathe to spoil a close friendship with deeper feelings which appeared unwarranted. And so the resulting confusion and pain on both sides led to situations like this.

"Idiots," Raffix murmured. The sleeping form in his arms stirred.

"Wha'?" Bleary indigo eyes and sleep-tousled hair.

An affectionate smile in the darkness: "Nothing. Go back to sleep, Quint."