[ Their bedroom is quiet where Anduin lays quiet, breathing, rising and falling. Gilia sits beside him. ]
Good afternoon, my love. [ She murmurs it like it was any other day, any other evening. ] I know, I know, I cleaned too much. But I made such a mess... what should people think of us and you if I do not keep your holdings clean?
[ The silence went on. The crack of branches laden with snow. The soft call of winter birds looking for someone to wrap themselves up with. She pauses still, waiting, waiting once more. ]
- Of course, it matters. You know I cannot bear to have anyone think less of you than you deserve. Besides, it is nice, to lay down with you on clean sheets. [ She gives a bubble of laughter for the next break. ] Even if Jacob insist we should dirty them as quickly. Jacob? Oh yes, he will be back soon, my love, I promise, he is gone out to fetch me food to prepare. He is worried about me. They all are. They mean us so well, I wish I knew how to tell them that grief is the natural state for rulers. But perhaps that why we are so well suited, you have never asked me why I find myself in tears when I wake, you simply hold me. I feel like the little birds that shall be born when this winter ends, cawing for you to come back. I know I must seem wretched as they. A poor flightless thing, half made with no wings to carry me.
[ She gives a choked laugh. ] Even Duke does not let me go outside without him. He is worried too. So I keep him busy.
[ She lets go of Anduin's hand, across to touch Duke's head, scritch him behind his long ears, as he looks up at her, attentive as ever. ] Watch Anduin, he almost has this one. Duke? Duke? Ateik. Yes, good boy, now, stand! Stand! Up, almost! Good boy, yes? See - Anduin? He's doing so well he's -
[ But silence answered her. As it had every other day. Duke dropped back down on his feet, and sensing her own change, moved to jump up onto Anduin's bed, curling up on his side. She leant forward, laying her head on his chest, for that second, that one, one second where she could hear his heart. Beating steadily as all she had to cling too, where all the words of assurance had felt so false until the tears came again, and she hid her face into him. ]
Please, my love, please promise you will wake soon, we must watch the new birds when they take flight in spring, please? We will give them names, and you shall tell me not to feed them too many seeds, but smile and not stop me when I cannot help myself, and I shall tell you that they have whispered to me they think you the loveliest man they have ever seen and have sworn themselves to your service. Red-breasted Knightly Robins to serve the King of Stormwind in his garden realm. You will kiss my hair and I will tell you again and always how I love you.
[ There is a soft creak, and the snow above the awnings fell, and this time, not with a scream of pain, nor rage and confusion, she curled up next to him on the bed. Tucking herself into the blankets beside him, and there, as silent as still as she could, she clung to him and took the best of the broken nap she could manage in the half made up daydream, hoping that this time, maybe this time, he will have heard and come back. ]
But he does not dream of Duplicity, of his sweet wife and loving home, of his friends and the bonds he's created in the city. He does not dream of its cruelty, its barbarism, nor of its strange brand of freedoms. Those memories turn to ash, scattering at the barest breath of recognition.
Anduin dreams instead of an impossible tower, piercing upwards like a cruel spike of twisted metal through an unending maw of darkness. He dreams of ascending towards a tear in the veil of reality itself with such speed that it feels like falling.
The young king dreams of cold chains stifling what warmth and light he can bring to bear in his bones. Of air so laden with misery every breath feels like drowning, clawing at his chest, rushing in his ears.
He dreams of nights in a cold cell, the air filled with the shrieks of damned souls, those condemned to an eternity of torment, wrung of every last strip of spirit left to them. He dreams of those horrors that invoke those screams from them, day after day after day, and he prays for the strength to continue to endure. The Light must hear him still, it must--
And he dreams of the Jailer, the architect of this terrible place, and the banshee who stands at his side with all the certainty of a righteous cause at her back. Who against all reason and sense sees fit to ask him to join them, to end the torment, to serve willingly...or else be compelled against his will.
The threat of it is there, pointed at his chest, the pull of something terrible and inevitable scrabbling at his very soul, and for just a moment he closes his eyes --
When they open, the sight is not one he immediately recognizes.
Moments slip past before the familiarity of it finds hold in his mind. His home. The comforting warmth of Gilia's frame pressed against his in fitful dozing, the heat of Duke's long lanky body tucked against his legs. The scent of lavender and sea salt clinging to the sheets.
Is this another dream? Another vision, some torment meant to break him further? He isn't sure, and he remains still as his mind whirls to try to comprehend what has just transpired. He doesn't trust him self to move an inch just yet, but the heartbeat under Gilia's ear has unmistakably quickened.
[ In the endless imaginings she has made each time, of waking to hear his voice, that gentle subtle difference of when he's waking and shifting to come back to the world, she does not notice it immediately. Thinking only that she's in that happy daydream all over again.
But daydreams end, and she shifts eventually all the way to wakefulness. Rubbing her cheek against his chest before she opens her eyes at last. Yawning in the exhaustion that never quite leaves her, because sleep is never truly restful. Forcing herself to sit up, not bringing herself to look again and break her own heart quite so immediately, she digs the heels of her palms across the eyes to clear the sleep from them.
Finally, at last, she does look down, does look across. To him where she has come to expect that once again, he will be asleep.
To find him awake, makes her go still. Slack in hope and yet disbelief. Her hand lifting, shaking, as she goes to touch him and not quite be able to. Fingers hovering above his jaw, almost, almost going to hold him. But scared, so scared, that she should go to find his pulse and yet what if even that was gone now. ]
I am dreaming, again, aren't I?
[ Because his skin is warm, and she can feel the tickle of his breath as she watched his face so carefully. ]
[ There's a raggedness to his voice, as though hoarse from disuse. Of course he's been asleep for weeks, but it feels like so, so much longer than that. The memories flare to life again, sputtering flames given new life, illuminating the face of the woman he loves so dearly.
One hand lifts, carefully grasping hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.
[ The catch of his voice, subtle and quiet as it was, broken as it was, is what finally breaks her of that hopeful stillness. Her eyes widening a breath before her own voice cracks in a breathless sob. ]
You are awake. You are awake.
[ She leans forward, seized so immediately to touch him. Pushing herself up, this time she does cup his cheek, gathering her legs underneath her so she can lean down to kiss him. Not sharply, or passionately, or softly. Just to feel his breath against her lips, to savor that feeling of him breathing, speaking, touching her in return as she threads their fingers like a net, holding fast to not let him go. Never let him go.
But even as she screws her eyes tightly to not let the tears of sheer relief fall, it fails, each kiss a hiccupped breath where it overwhelms. That each drag of her lips breaks in the soft sob of his name that bleeds like prayers. Anduin, her Anduin. You came back to me. ]
[ It's hard to say at first which of them she is reassuring. But her relief washes through him in a flood just the same, and he finds his eyes closing once more. Just long enough to press back, to let his fingers drift upwards to sink into her hair and pull her close.
She's warm, and real, and he's back here again, and he never knew he could be so glad to return anywhere.
It isn't home, but it is where his heart lies. He'd not even had the comfort of her memory, and now? Everything resurfaces at once, with such brimming intensity that he has no words.
He just folds his arms around her, holding fast like a man lost at sea.
[ Prone across his chest, she touches her forehead to his to steady herself in the simple truth he was there, awake again and warm in their embrace. Her hands braced on his shoulders as he holds her close. Fingers brush back and forth, as her head tilts into that quiet with him. Breathe with him a moment as he crushes her close and she burrows instead into the side of his head and the soft fall of his hair. All her prayers, her silent pleas, her begging had come to pass, and that he should be returned to her.
And in the simple grace of looking into his eyes when she pulls up enough to watch him again, she is more thankful than she can ever have been in her life. ]
I prayed morning and night for you to wake. [ And at least, tears hot on her cheeks and eyes red with the endless crying, she smiles. At last, she smiles. ] I prayed, and I prayed and I prayed until I had no voice.
[ After months in the Maw, Anduin knows what it is to pray with such fervor that your voice breaks, your spirit wrung for all it is worth. He sees it in the brightness in her eyes like sunlight cracking through the clouds. Hope after who knows how much despair and doubt, or for how long.
His hand caresses her damp cheek, warm and soft. His lips part but nothing passes them but unsteady breath. There are words but he doesn't know if they're right, if he should apologize or reassure her or tell her what happened.
Instead he simply draws her in again, forehead to press against hers. Whatever comes, he can endure...so long as he knows she'll be there waiting for him. ]
[She could not say how long they stay like that. Letting her hand brushing against him, resting against him as she just watched his features. His arms holding her so securely, it might just be the only thing keeping her close to stop her floating away entirely. All she wanted, for so long.
But eventually, in a little murmur, her voice creaks back in a whisper. ]
Do you need a meal? Something to drink? It's been weeks, you must feel...
[ Only a matter of weeks, then. Not months. Just lying here peacefully, as those who return even briefly to their own worlds will do, not...
He cannot correct her. Instead he simply nods, drawing back just far enough to gaze at her face, worry giving way by degrees to relief. How long had she stayed her like this, with him? Had anyone thought to check on her, and Duke? How--
Yes. This is easier. Far easier than thinking on what he just left behind. ]
Have you eaten, beloved? You look as if you've not looked after yourself in some time.
[ The words are too soft, too weary, but it's an effort to push past. That's all he has in him, for the moment. ]
[ Every movement, flicker, of his features slowly unknots the agony in her chest. Undoes the fear of having to endure this place without him. Slowly, slowly but surely, her body lessons in its tension. ]
Some. Jacob would not let me waste away, though I admit, I could often not spare more than a mouthful.
[ Everything had lost any sense of taste, any joy, than the most basic of functions and the simple reminder that she must eat, to be in good health for when Anduin awoke. ]
Stay. I will fetch you something.
[ Though she doesn't move so quickly as all that. Another kiss to hold him sweetly before finally, she untangles herself from his arms. Slowly done, until she straightens up. The pain of it all still lingering - the way that even with her wrapped tightly in veils, the free curls float around her head as she moves. Disappearing around the corner to the kitchen.
Until she's right back again, a few minutes later, a hot plate on a tray, coming back to his side to settle. ]
[ She's gone just long enough for him to have drawn himself up from the pillows, to the edge of the bed. Duke's nose has appeared under his hand, tail whipping furiously back and forth with soft whining, and he cannot help but smile at the pup. Stroking his ears, rubbing the crease where they fit against his fuzzy head. ]
Good boy.
[ Even the acoustics of the words seem strange, close rather than hollow and echoing. It helps settle him a little further, recalling what life had been before imprisonment. His eyes lift as Gilia returns, lingering briefly on the food before drifting to the way her hair floats about her.
His brow immediately pinches, the smile fading. Oh, Gilia... ]
[ The plate is set down as she comes close, onto the bedside table. Anduin has himself upright, and that is a relief that he is strong enough to manage that much. All the things she had managed to read about 'comas' in an attempt to understand had only painted more frightful images.
But she leans over to reach for the extra pillows to support him. Fluffing them sensibly to place them behind his head and shoulders. Busy enough with it, she doesn't notice the drop away of his smile, until she pulls back. Worried, then, she touches his cheek. ]
Is there something wrong, my love? Are you cold? The weather has been frightful, I can fetch you another blanket?
[ He shakes his head, reaching out to clasp her hand, to draw it down to rest between his. Always she thinks of others first, even ignoring the obvious pain in her own heart.
Perhaps that's why they match so well, together. ]
You've done more than enough. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, having to look after me for weeks. I'm so sorry you had to endure that.
[ Scared the others? That could mean any number of things, but trying to imagine them is like wading through a fog at the moment. He still feels a little disoriented from the pull back here, the sudden quiet and warmth that seems as fragile as gossamer.
So he leans closer, head resting tenderly against hers. ]
I know. I know it must have. I never meant to worry you, not ever...
[The last thing she wants, is to him to carry even one breath of guilt. So she shakes her head a little. ]
It is not your fault. I feel too much and worry to deeply, we both know that. If there wasn't the wind to push me along I might worry myself into a hole in the ground.
[ But moving to sit beside him so he could keep resting on her, she reached for the tray of food and settled it in her lap. ] Do you have strength in yourself at the moment to feed yourself? I promise, I shall not tell anyone if you do not.
No, I am well enough. I imagine that must have been the longest rest I've ever taken.
[ Even if it was as far from restful as one could imagine. He still manages a slight smile, reaching for the tray to take it himself. Food. Actual food, the scent of it so overwhelming he almost can't bear to take a bite.
But she's worried enough over him, surely. So he'll eat, at least a few mouthfuls, and let her see that he's fine. Right? Right. ]
[ She tries not to make it so obvious she is watching like a hawk over him, and at least Duke makes a good distraction. Breaking off a corner of the bread she served with the hot meal to feed to him.
Truthfully, she isn't expecting more than a few mouthfuls, after sleeping like that it didn't surprise her he wasn't so hungry. But it was a start, and maybe with some time, he will want more. ] Do you want to bathe? Or stretch your legs first? Everything is covered in snow, it is quite beautiful, our little garden, wearing a white blanket, but it has been frightful the last few weeks.
[ It wasn't as bad as the winters at home, but then again, they were notably dreadful. Even so, she didn't want him catching a chill on top of it. ]
[ His heart quietly breaks for her, as she hovers so close. Worrying over him, as only she can. One can only imagine she's felt she could do nothing while he slept, and now every opportunity to do something feels like a chance to make up for time lost.
He won't deny her that, and he tugs his smile a little wider with a nod. ]
I'd like to see it.
[ Not a lie at all, and perhaps a distraction from...literally everything else. ]
[His wish is her command, and up she gets. Taking the tray from him with it, setting it aside for him to be able to move freely. The rest is fetching the heavy winter coat she'd made him do many weeks ago, and thick socks to wear with his slippers.
That when she comes back, she waits for him to put his feet out of the bed and goes about kneeling to help him get the socks on. She knows, perhaps, it's too much, to fuss and worry.
But she needed more than anything, to reaffirm his presence, and how much the city had taken, but it could not take her love and care for him, to wish for him to want for nothing if she could help it.
But she does her best to pretend it's not so consuming, lifting her voice to chatter the frivolous things she always does. Light bits of nonsense to fill the air. ]
Do not tell everyone else I think it not so bad, it has been very hard for them and I would not want to lesson that, but you know my winters. I count my blessings the sun rises here for most days and all else I can bear. I suppose that is how fair for how little I can stand the heat like everyone else does.
I know. You've dealt with so much harsher than this...
[ He murmurs, frowning slightly as she kneels at his feet, but he hasn't the heart to shoo her away. Instead he pulls her with him when he stands, hands set to her shoulders, her warm frame under her bundle of clothes so much more reminiscent of her home. A source of comfort, perhaps.
Perhaps he ought to do the same. His coat's been repaired, he just hasn't seen fit to wear it since last winter. Since the incident with Hellboy.
For moments there standing with her he goes quiet, mind elsewhere. ]
[Up she goes, and it is quite right that he doesn't need her to do these things for him, any more than she needs to stay close with her finger resting just above his heart, through his night clothes.
Yet here they were, regardless. ]
We call this good autumn weather. Good for sending little ones out to build snow mice.
[ She reaches for his coat where she had picked it up. Holding it up for him to take. ]
Snow Mice are the little spirits who serve Time, supposedly. You build figures of them, and that let's them know to tell Time the seasons must move. But by building Snow Mice you delay them so winter is held of for a little longer.
[ He returns to the conversation about halfway through her explanation, furrowing his brow and nodding as he reaches to take the stiff blue fabric out of her hands. ]
Do your people not wish for Spring to come sooner?
[ Slowly, he works the coat over his shoulders, buttoning it into place. He can feel Duke bumping nervously against his leg with his snout, clearly concerned, and he gets an absent pat of a hand once the coat is on entirely. ]
[The silences she assures herself, are to be expected. He has been who knows how long at home, being a King as grand as he deserves no doubt, to be so suddenly thrust back here. So she shakes her head. ]
We do. But mothers and fathers look for any good reason to get their children out from underfoot for a few hours before everyone must be locked up inside for weeks on end.
[She steps forward and hooks her arm through his to lead him - too much, she knows but parting is worse, as she goes to take him out to their little garden. Duke taking up firm guard at his other side, as they make their way through the house. ] Then as they get older they realise you should hope for winter to hurry and be over with and parents must tell the elder children that they have to mind their little siblings from too muc mischief rather than staying inside.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
— during feb coma
Good afternoon, my love. [ She murmurs it like it was any other day, any other evening. ] I know, I know, I cleaned too much. But I made such a mess... what should people think of us and you if I do not keep your holdings clean?
[ The silence went on. The crack of branches laden with snow. The soft call of winter birds looking for someone to wrap themselves up with. She pauses still, waiting, waiting once more. ]
- Of course, it matters. You know I cannot bear to have anyone think less of you than you deserve. Besides, it is nice, to lay down with you on clean sheets. [ She gives a bubble of laughter for the next break. ] Even if Jacob insist we should dirty them as quickly. Jacob? Oh yes, he will be back soon, my love, I promise, he is gone out to fetch me food to prepare. He is worried about me. They all are. They mean us so well, I wish I knew how to tell them that grief is the natural state for rulers. But perhaps that why we are so well suited, you have never asked me why I find myself in tears when I wake, you simply hold me. I feel like the little birds that shall be born when this winter ends, cawing for you to come back. I know I must seem wretched as they. A poor flightless thing, half made with no wings to carry me.
[ She gives a choked laugh. ] Even Duke does not let me go outside without him. He is worried too. So I keep him busy.
[ She lets go of Anduin's hand, across to touch Duke's head, scritch him behind his long ears, as he looks up at her, attentive as ever. ] Watch Anduin, he almost has this one. Duke? Duke? Ateik. Yes, good boy, now, stand! Stand! Up, almost! Good boy, yes? See - Anduin? He's doing so well he's -
[ But silence answered her. As it had every other day. Duke dropped back down on his feet, and sensing her own change, moved to jump up onto Anduin's bed, curling up on his side. She leant forward, laying her head on his chest, for that second, that one, one second where she could hear his heart. Beating steadily as all she had to cling too, where all the words of assurance had felt so false until the tears came again, and she hid her face into him. ]
Please, my love, please promise you will wake soon, we must watch the new birds when they take flight in spring, please? We will give them names, and you shall tell me not to feed them too many seeds, but smile and not stop me when I cannot help myself, and I shall tell you that they have whispered to me they think you the loveliest man they have ever seen and have sworn themselves to your service. Red-breasted Knightly Robins to serve the King of Stormwind in his garden realm. You will kiss my hair and I will tell you again and always how I love you.
[ There is a soft creak, and the snow above the awnings fell, and this time, not with a scream of pain, nor rage and confusion, she curled up next to him on the bed. Tucking herself into the blankets beside him, and there, as silent as still as she could, she clung to him and took the best of the broken nap she could manage in the half made up daydream, hoping that this time, maybe this time, he will have heard and come back. ]
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But he does not dream of Duplicity, of his sweet wife and loving home, of his friends and the bonds he's created in the city. He does not dream of its cruelty, its barbarism, nor of its strange brand of freedoms. Those memories turn to ash, scattering at the barest breath of recognition.
Anduin dreams instead of an impossible tower, piercing upwards like a cruel spike of twisted metal through an unending maw of darkness. He dreams of ascending towards a tear in the veil of reality itself with such speed that it feels like falling.
The young king dreams of cold chains stifling what warmth and light he can bring to bear in his bones. Of air so laden with misery every breath feels like drowning, clawing at his chest, rushing in his ears.
He dreams of nights in a cold cell, the air filled with the shrieks of damned souls, those condemned to an eternity of torment, wrung of every last strip of spirit left to them. He dreams of those horrors that invoke those screams from them, day after day after day, and he prays for the strength to continue to endure. The Light must hear him still, it must--
And he dreams of the Jailer, the architect of this terrible place, and the banshee who stands at his side with all the certainty of a righteous cause at her back. Who against all reason and sense sees fit to ask him to join them, to end the torment, to serve willingly...or else be compelled against his will.
The threat of it is there, pointed at his chest, the pull of something terrible and inevitable scrabbling at his very soul, and for just a moment he closes his eyes --
When they open, the sight is not one he immediately recognizes.
Moments slip past before the familiarity of it finds hold in his mind. His home. The comforting warmth of Gilia's frame pressed against his in fitful dozing, the heat of Duke's long lanky body tucked against his legs. The scent of lavender and sea salt clinging to the sheets.
Is this another dream? Another vision, some torment meant to break him further? He isn't sure, and he remains still as his mind whirls to try to comprehend what has just transpired. He doesn't trust him self to move an inch just yet, but the heartbeat under Gilia's ear has unmistakably quickened.
Awake, at last. ]
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But daydreams end, and she shifts eventually all the way to wakefulness. Rubbing her cheek against his chest before she opens her eyes at last. Yawning in the exhaustion that never quite leaves her, because sleep is never truly restful. Forcing herself to sit up, not bringing herself to look again and break her own heart quite so immediately, she digs the heels of her palms across the eyes to clear the sleep from them.
Finally, at last, she does look down, does look across. To him where she has come to expect that once again, he will be asleep.
To find him awake, makes her go still. Slack in hope and yet disbelief. Her hand lifting, shaking, as she goes to touch him and not quite be able to. Fingers hovering above his jaw, almost, almost going to hold him. But scared, so scared, that she should go to find his pulse and yet what if even that was gone now. ]
I am dreaming, again, aren't I?
[ Because his skin is warm, and she can feel the tickle of his breath as she watched his face so carefully. ]
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[ There's a raggedness to his voice, as though hoarse from disuse. Of course he's been asleep for weeks, but it feels like so, so much longer than that. The memories flare to life again, sputtering flames given new life, illuminating the face of the woman he loves so dearly.
One hand lifts, carefully grasping hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.
Please. Let it not simply be a dream. ]
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You are awake. You are awake.
[ She leans forward, seized so immediately to touch him. Pushing herself up, this time she does cup his cheek, gathering her legs underneath her so she can lean down to kiss him. Not sharply, or passionately, or softly. Just to feel his breath against her lips, to savor that feeling of him breathing, speaking, touching her in return as she threads their fingers like a net, holding fast to not let him go. Never let him go.
But even as she screws her eyes tightly to not let the tears of sheer relief fall, it fails, each kiss a hiccupped breath where it overwhelms. That each drag of her lips breaks in the soft sob of his name that bleeds like prayers. Anduin, her Anduin. You came back to me. ]
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She's warm, and real, and he's back here again, and he never knew he could be so glad to return anywhere.
It isn't home, but it is where his heart lies. He'd not even had the comfort of her memory, and now? Everything resurfaces at once, with such brimming intensity that he has no words.
He just folds his arms around her, holding fast like a man lost at sea.
My ocean star. She led me back again. ]
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And in the simple grace of looking into his eyes when she pulls up enough to watch him again, she is more thankful than she can ever have been in her life. ]
I prayed morning and night for you to wake. [ And at least, tears hot on her cheeks and eyes red with the endless crying, she smiles. At last, she smiles. ] I prayed, and I prayed and I prayed until I had no voice.
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His hand caresses her damp cheek, warm and soft. His lips part but nothing passes them but unsteady breath. There are words but he doesn't know if they're right, if he should apologize or reassure her or tell her what happened.
Instead he simply draws her in again, forehead to press against hers. Whatever comes, he can endure...so long as he knows she'll be there waiting for him. ]
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But eventually, in a little murmur, her voice creaks back in a whisper. ]
Do you need a meal? Something to drink? It's been weeks, you must feel...
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He cannot correct her. Instead he simply nods, drawing back just far enough to gaze at her face, worry giving way by degrees to relief. How long had she stayed her like this, with him? Had anyone thought to check on her, and Duke? How--
Yes. This is easier. Far easier than thinking on what he just left behind. ]
Have you eaten, beloved? You look as if you've not looked after yourself in some time.
[ The words are too soft, too weary, but it's an effort to push past. That's all he has in him, for the moment. ]
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Some. Jacob would not let me waste away, though I admit, I could often not spare more than a mouthful.
[ Everything had lost any sense of taste, any joy, than the most basic of functions and the simple reminder that she must eat, to be in good health for when Anduin awoke. ]
Stay. I will fetch you something.
[ Though she doesn't move so quickly as all that. Another kiss to hold him sweetly before finally, she untangles herself from his arms. Slowly done, until she straightens up. The pain of it all still lingering - the way that even with her wrapped tightly in veils, the free curls float around her head as she moves. Disappearing around the corner to the kitchen.
Until she's right back again, a few minutes later, a hot plate on a tray, coming back to his side to settle. ]
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Good boy.
[ Even the acoustics of the words seem strange, close rather than hollow and echoing. It helps settle him a little further, recalling what life had been before imprisonment. His eyes lift as Gilia returns, lingering briefly on the food before drifting to the way her hair floats about her.
His brow immediately pinches, the smile fading. Oh, Gilia... ]
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But she leans over to reach for the extra pillows to support him. Fluffing them sensibly to place them behind his head and shoulders. Busy enough with it, she doesn't notice the drop away of his smile, until she pulls back. Worried, then, she touches his cheek. ]
Is there something wrong, my love? Are you cold? The weather has been frightful, I can fetch you another blanket?
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[ He shakes his head, reaching out to clasp her hand, to draw it down to rest between his. Always she thinks of others first, even ignoring the obvious pain in her own heart.
Perhaps that's why they match so well, together. ]
You've done more than enough. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, having to look after me for weeks. I'm so sorry you had to endure that.
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[She shakes her head quickly, a quick little laugh to reassure him that truly, it was nothing.
Even if they both knew it was every minute a misery.
So she squeezes his hand affectionately, as much reassurance for them both. ]
I did not understand it, that is all. It scared me, at first, though I think I scared others more. But it is over now, that is all that matters.
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So he leans closer, head resting tenderly against hers. ]
I know. I know it must have. I never meant to worry you, not ever...
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It is not your fault. I feel too much and worry to deeply, we both know that. If there wasn't the wind to push me along I might worry myself into a hole in the ground.
[ But moving to sit beside him so he could keep resting on her, she reached for the tray of food and settled it in her lap. ] Do you have strength in yourself at the moment to feed yourself? I promise, I shall not tell anyone if you do not.
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[ Even if it was as far from restful as one could imagine. He still manages a slight smile, reaching for the tray to take it himself. Food. Actual food, the scent of it so overwhelming he almost can't bear to take a bite.
But she's worried enough over him, surely. So he'll eat, at least a few mouthfuls, and let her see that he's fine. Right? Right. ]
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Truthfully, she isn't expecting more than a few mouthfuls, after sleeping like that it didn't surprise her he wasn't so hungry. But it was a start, and maybe with some time, he will want more. ] Do you want to bathe? Or stretch your legs first? Everything is covered in snow, it is quite beautiful, our little garden, wearing a white blanket, but it has been frightful the last few weeks.
[ It wasn't as bad as the winters at home, but then again, they were notably dreadful. Even so, she didn't want him catching a chill on top of it. ]
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He won't deny her that, and he tugs his smile a little wider with a nod. ]
I'd like to see it.
[ Not a lie at all, and perhaps a distraction from...literally everything else. ]
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That when she comes back, she waits for him to put his feet out of the bed and goes about kneeling to help him get the socks on. She knows, perhaps, it's too much, to fuss and worry.
But she needed more than anything, to reaffirm his presence, and how much the city had taken, but it could not take her love and care for him, to wish for him to want for nothing if she could help it.
But she does her best to pretend it's not so consuming, lifting her voice to chatter the frivolous things she always does. Light bits of nonsense to fill the air. ]
Do not tell everyone else I think it not so bad, it has been very hard for them and I would not want to lesson that, but you know my winters. I count my blessings the sun rises here for most days and all else I can bear. I suppose that is how fair for how little I can stand the heat like everyone else does.
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[ He murmurs, frowning slightly as she kneels at his feet, but he hasn't the heart to shoo her away. Instead he pulls her with him when he stands, hands set to her shoulders, her warm frame under her bundle of clothes so much more reminiscent of her home. A source of comfort, perhaps.
Perhaps he ought to do the same. His coat's been repaired, he just hasn't seen fit to wear it since last winter. Since the incident with Hellboy.
For moments there standing with her he goes quiet, mind elsewhere. ]
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Yet here they were, regardless. ]
We call this good autumn weather. Good for sending little ones out to build snow mice.
[ She reaches for his coat where she had picked it up. Holding it up for him to take. ]
Snow Mice are the little spirits who serve Time, supposedly. You build figures of them, and that let's them know to tell Time the seasons must move. But by building Snow Mice you delay them so winter is held of for a little longer.
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[ He returns to the conversation about halfway through her explanation, furrowing his brow and nodding as he reaches to take the stiff blue fabric out of her hands. ]
Do your people not wish for Spring to come sooner?
[ Slowly, he works the coat over his shoulders, buttoning it into place. He can feel Duke bumping nervously against his leg with his snout, clearly concerned, and he gets an absent pat of a hand once the coat is on entirely. ]
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We do. But mothers and fathers look for any good reason to get their children out from underfoot for a few hours before everyone must be locked up inside for weeks on end.
[She steps forward and hooks her arm through his to lead him - too much, she knows but parting is worse, as she goes to take him out to their little garden. Duke taking up firm guard at his other side, as they make their way through the house. ] Then as they get older they realise you should hope for winter to hurry and be over with and parents must tell the elder children that they have to mind their little siblings from too muc mischief rather than staying inside.
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