westfallcorndog | Here Because of You (For Isidor)

Entry tags:

isidor

Here Because of You (For Isidor)

It's only been a few days since returning to the Nexus from Tamriel, but Harrowheart can't stop worrying about Isidor. She came out alive from everything they saw, but it's what they saw that worries him. He remembers what it's like, of course he does. How utterly unsettling it is to be a living person faced with monstrosities like that. The fear of it has faded with time, but he still remembers how sickening it all was the first time he saw the Scourge.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and his first thought is, 'Fuck me.' He still doesn't have Isidor's number. This is getting to be bullshit. Viatorus is going to start getting wise to how often he asks to spend time with his sister, and then the whole thing is going to come tumbling down. At least this time he has the excuse of an 'adventure' to cover for him.

V my man how are you doing? Are people being nice to you? Do I need to beat Peenia or Sajean up for you? Anyone at all? And when are we hanging out next?

Good, good cover. And honest, too. The last time they did anything interesting was when they went fishing, and after everything on Tamriel that feels like a lifetime ago. A little casual time with Viatorus would be great right about now.

How is your sister? I need to talk to her about things that happened. Do you think you can get her in touch with me? If she can meet me tell her to come to the clearing where we worked on magic training.

He expects Viatorus will pull through for him. Of course he will. That's why he's already in the clearing lying on top of the picnic bench, his runeblade resting on the ground beneath it. Nothing here has changed since the last time she arrived, apart from the turn of the seasons... And the little area of ground that she flattened for a fighting ring. It seems Harrowheart expanded on her work, turning a circle of flat pounded ground into a large square of hard-packed dirt.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Although she sighs as she accepts his hand there's still that suggestion of a smile as she gets to her feet. While he lights a fire, an action that she's retroactively impressed by once she sees it, she picks some music for them to dance to. Spotting a track her lips tug upwards for a half second and she puts it on before turning back to him. As the music starts she can't help but smile at Harrowheart.

"You look like a soldier," she tells him. "Here..." Stepping up close, Isidor gently pulls his hands apart, placing one on her shoulder blade and keeping the other in her hand. She rests her other hand on his arm, checks their position and then starts explaining. "The waltz is the first dance I was ever taught. The basics are six steps, don't worry we'll go slowly."

She runs him through stepping forward with his left foot, bringing his right foot forward as he steps to the side and then putting his feet together again. Then it's just a matter of doing the reverse, stepping back with his right foot, bringing his left back and stepping to the side before bringing their feet together again. "Simple enough?"

Harrow's head bobs with the first few beats of the music, but by the time Isidor is repositioning him all his focus is on her. It's one thing for him to surprise her with a touch, but somehow he finds himself a touch embarrassed when she's the one who puts his hand on her back. A few seconds in and his cheeks have turned the faintest bit darker.

She walks him through the steps and asks if it's simple, but his reply is only a watery laugh. It's only six steps, it's got to be simple! Except not when you've never done it. He has to repeat it a few times, eyes on the ground to be sure he doesn't step on her feet. Light, but she knows this so much better than him. Every time he's sure he's going to trample her she's already out of the way.

He starts counting his steps as he goes, humming wordless little 'one, two, three' beats that soon grow slower, fall into time with the music. Having the song to guide him helps him keep his pace, but he still feels the need to check his feet with every change of direction.

"I wish I woulda gone home and gotten that fancy outfit of mine," he finally says, punctuating it with a small smile. "We coulda pretended we were dancin' like this at your brother's party." He checks his feet and then it's back to her face.

"When do I get to dip you?" he asks, his eyes bright with expectation. "The man dips the lady in a dance like this, right? Or do we do that twirl? You know the kind, where we spread arm's length apart and come back together?"

Unlike Harrowheart Isidor is making sure not to check their feet since that would almost inevitably result in head butting. She opens her mouth, about to say something, when he asks about dips and twirls. She blinks at him. This time it's her turn for her cheeks to flush slightly, but she manages to keep her voice even.

"Well… You need to learn how to rise and fall as you step, first." Yes, Isidor, distract him quickly. "You rise and fall as you waltz. Like this…" She demonstrates, bending her knees to dip on one step and straightening them again on the next. "The dance is meant to have a graceful, gliding effect. After you get the hang of that we can talk about dips and twirls."

And distract him she does. Harrowheart watches closely as she dips between steps and rises at the pause. That doesn't look so hard! He can do that!

The first time he falls too deeply, but he quickly finds his rhythm. He feels himself succeeding and his look of concentration turns to a small smile.

As he repeats the steps his hum-counting turns into an actual song. A familiar tune about a tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme...

His humming turns to quiet singing. "Just a little change." It's the perfect cadence to count his steps as he leads her in large circle. "Small to say the least..." He glances at his feet and looks back with a smile that poorly hides the way his cheeks darken.

"Barely even friends, then somebody bends..." He starts like he's going to dip her, moving in close with his hand tight against her back to brace her. She hardly drops an inch before he straightens again, laughing so quietly. "Unexpectedly!"

It wouldn't be fair to surprise her like that, but it's too fun not to scare her just a bit. He winks before he continues their boring waltz. "Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme, beauty and the beast."

He glances out the window, then back to Isidor. "Just like in the movie, huh?"

Edited 2018-01-23 15:31 (UTC)

Never in a million years did Isidor think she would be teaching Harrowheart how to waltz, and she certainly never would have expected him to be good at it. Yet here they are, waltzing simply in her apartment after just a few instructions. It's in this little bizarre little thought that Isidor is lost until another surprise brings her back to the present. Harrowheart is... singing?

No sooner has she blinked at him in curious shock than he almost, almost bends her. An audible gasp slips past her lips and her grip tightens, but then they both straighten and they continue dancing. She's still trying to decide what to say when he finishes his song and asks her a question.

She blinks at him and fumbles for an answer. "Um. Yes? I... never saw the movie." Ah, there, she can look at him strangely again. That's a familiar feeling. "You've watched Earth movies?"

If Harrowheart had grown up with Western Earth culture he might have taken a moment to be scandalized at meeting someone who's never seen Beauty and the Beast. As it is his eyes alight and his smile becomes so wonderfully happy. "We gotta watch it together, then," he says, and briefly fumbles his steps in his distraction. A breath's pause and he's back in the motions of the dance.

"I watch all sorts of Earth movies, sure. I like most of 'em a lot. It's better than readin' for sure, 'cause I can sit back and have a story told to me without worryin' about how long it takes me to finish a book."

A few more steps and, curious, he asks, "You don't watch movies, then? Not at all? No television or nothin'? Too busy, I bet. You should try it sometime."

It's not that she thought Harrowheart was an avid reader, but the notion of preferring to sit back and have a story told to her rather than reading it herself is a difficult one for Isidor to understand.

"I do watch television, when I get the chance... It's just..." She sighs and steps away from Harrowheart so that she can pick up the remote. At the press of a button there's a quiet hum as the painting above the fireplace lifts away to reveal a television screen. Isidor waits, a hand on her hip until it's done, and then she turns to Harrowheart. "I like things to be tidy."

The end of the dance is a slight disappointment, but once he's standing still again he realizes just how long they'd been spinning. Frankly, he feels like he's still spinning. And bless him, but when he sees the picture start to move he stumbles back in surprise. He forgets about her and the screen that's been revealed to instead get as close as he can to the wall without being too near the fire. He peers up to see where the painting went, but it's well hidden up in the wall.

Eventually he turns to face Isidor with wide eyes and parted lips. He stares, stock still, and waits... Until in a burst of motion he points at Isidor and in an excited whisper asks, "What other cool shit you got around here?"

It's a difficult task but Isidor manages to keep her calm, casual expression right up until Harrowheart demands to see more. The smile that curls the corner of her lips is small, but it's there. It's undeniably satisfying to get such an enthusiastic reaction, and a little charming.

Isidor hums and casts her eye around the room. Walking to the couch she slides back a section of the armrest to reveal a grooved wooden panel with USB slots. "That's for charging your phone or laptop," she explains. Moving to the shelves she presses a discreet button and panels shift, parting and lowering until books are replaced with a fine looking drinks cabinet.

Only once she's finished watching him take in those does she move to a space in front of the windows. She kneels, presses her palm to the floor and then rises again. As she stands part of the floor twists and lifts until a small pillar has risen out of the ground. Isidor flips the top to reveal a silver dish and then looks back to Harrowheart. "There are more, but a girl's got to have a few secrets, right?"

The USB charging station brings him a smile, but what really astounds him is watching books disappear and drinks take their place. He even lets out a hushed little gasp. When she moves to the window he scuttles after her, eager for what comes next. He couldn't have guessed it would have been that.

He grips her arm and whispers, "Isidor, this place is so cool!" He laughs in amazement as he looks around the room with a renewed sense of wonder. When he's looking at Isidor again he elbows her gently and jokes, "Hope you always wanted a roommate, 'cause I just decided I live here now."

Then he points to the silver dish, then remembers his manners and instead gestures with an open palm. "Is that for rituals? Divination, like you did back at Naugus' tower? Oh, oh! If you do magic here, I bet you got a little shrine to your goddess, don't you? Can I leave her a little somethin' when I make din--"

He stops mid-sentence, stares, and whispers, "Kitchen." He must see it...

Harrowheart gets an arched eyebrow when he grips Isidor's arm, but before she can come up with a retort he's elbowing her and joking about moving in. This time she's a little quicker off the mark. "Would I have to put in a barn door or a water bowl?"

There's a flurry of words that tumble excitedly out of Harrowheart's mouth, and although Isidor struggles a little to keep up, at least it's keeping her distracted... She seizes upon the brief silence to take a breath. "Yes, it's for magic like divination. Yes, I have a shrine." A longer pause, and then she gestures to the door she came from when she had coffee in hand. "And the kitchen is through there."

Through that door is a small space of sleek steel, glass and smooth black cupboards. The oven cooker and the sink are the easiest things to spot, but everything else seems hidden within the flawless dark doors. There are a handful of fresh herbs and fruit out on the counter, but even they look like they fell out of a magazine. A little exploring will find the fan that pulls out above the gas cooker, the fridge and freezer, the narrow pillar that slides out racks of neatly organised food, the set of kitchen knives that sit inside each other... Anything that can be made more efficient is more efficient. The coffee maker, kettle and microwave all slide easily out of cupboards, and back in, to keep everything orderly.

Barn door or water bowl? Harrow tosses his head back and hoots! He gestures to the silver divination platter. She's already got the bowl covered.

His amusement doesn't fade as he follows Isidor into her kitchen, which is a bit of a mystery at first glance. There's the Earth-style oven and the sink, sure, but where is everything else? When he first begins opening cabinets it's with the shyness of a guest who's afraid to appear rude. He gains confidence as he goes, though, and when he's now and then surprised by fixtures (Look! The refrigerator is even in a cabinet!) he has to point and smile broadly. What, like she's never seen it before?

The microwave he meets with a strange lack of recognition. He's sure Viatorus has one of these, but he isn't sure what, exactly, it does. He reads the buttons, opens up the door, feels around inside. My, there's a little glass plate at the bottom that rolls! Interesting, interesting. He leans in closely to look at it and finds that the insides offer no clues to its use. There's no obvious source of heat, and it isn't cold inside (he thinks?).

Oh, but then it becomes so obvious what it is! He closes the door and smiles with such smug knowingness. He presses the 'potato' button, crosses his arms, and waits. And waits. And... Hmm. That's an awfully long timer. With a dismissive flop of his hand he presses 'Cancel.'

"We'll conjure your potato later. I wanna see your bathroom."

Isidor has a hard time resisting the urge to fold her arms and look unimpressed as she stands back and watches him explore her kitchen. It's habit to rely on being sarcastic and defensive. Thankfully Harrowheart's sense of wonder and endearing ignorance makes it much easier. So she leans back against the small dining table nearby and watches him rifle through her cupboards, occasionally giving him an encouraging smile when he glances over.

The decision to put the microwave on with nothing in it gets a raised eyebrow, which is joined by her other eyebrow when he talks about summoning a potato. What does he think the microwave is, exactly? She decides she can lecture him later.

After double checking that the microwave is indeed stopped, she waves at him to follow her into the next room. "Do you always want to explore every inch of a place?"

She leads him to the main bathroom which keeps in theme with the rest of the house. White tiles are bright against dark grey stone and flashes of deep, warm wood give the spacious bathroom some life. There is a large shower and a free standing bath. It looks like there is very little in this room apart from the neatly folded towels. The mirror is a cabinet, and seamless drawers are part of the table supporting the sink.

As with the kitchen, Isidor stands back to let him explore. "There are shelves in the shower, too, but I don't have visitors round very often so there's not much in here."

"Course I gotta explore the whole place," he says as if it were obvious. "Gotta make sure there ain't any bad guys hidin' anywhere, don't I?"

In the bathroom Harrowheart runs his hand over the rim of the bath. As he heads for the shower he says, "First time I ever saw indoor plumbing was in the Nexus. When I was growin' up we had to draw water from the well to fill up the bath. Then we heated it over a fire, and then we put it in the tub. Took a real long time to get clean that way. But the weather's warm enough in Westfall, so usually we went down to the creek and cleaned up there." He pats the edge of the bath and says, "I think the Earth way is better."

And then... The shower. He pokes his head in and observes where the water is going to come out when he inevitably tests the handle. Even though he knows the water is going to flow as a consequence of doing so he's still startled by it when it kicks on. He tenses, then quickly slams the handle to the 'off' position. He tries to hide his shame with a laugh.

"I've only ever had one shower before," he admits. "When I was in Steve's body and we all spent the night at Viatorus' apartment in the Nexus. It was a real nice experience in a livin' person's body, except for the part where the steam made me – him? – cough."

He looks between the shower and Isidor. The shower... And Isidor. He very clearly wants to ask something, but his shyness gets the better of him and he only quietly laughs.

When he gets to the door he pauses. "What do you say we get back to the kitchen and I make you dinner? We can crack open some of that alcohol you got, and I won't use it as an excuse to compliment you even once. We'll distract you from bad thoughts with a movie or a blunt, and then you'll head to bed. And I'll..." He looks around, shrugs, and smiles. "Wander around like a ghost and try not to scare you?"

Edited 2018-01-25 18:56 (UTC)

Isidor leans against the table under the sink and folds her arms to watch him. Of course it makes sense that indoor plumbing is new to him, but it's still difficult to imagine. Sure, she's gone camping, but living your life with no warm water? It's a completely different world to hers.

"That sounds... idyllic." And cold, and distinctly lacking in privacy. But she's not going to add those things and ruin a nice memory.

It's even stranger to see Harrowheart jumping at the shower. Seeing him so bewildered at all of this is starting to make her realise that there are quite a lot of things he really doesn't know about. She can't help but wonder if that makes her responsible here. Suddenly him being here to keep her safe feels somewhat uncomfortable. His awkward looks and shy laughter snap her out of her thoughts and she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously as he approaches.

Isidor laughs in surprise. "A blunt?" Her? She really must not be giving off her usual vibe for him to suggest that. Shaking her head in disbelief, she starts towards the kitchen. "Dinner is an idea, but... I don't have much in. We can order take away instead?"

Hearing her laughter, even in bewilderment, makes him immediately smile. He drapes his arm over her shoulder and looks down at her with a simple satisfaction that just won't go.

"Take away! I like it, I like it. Just no... Salads, or nothin' like that. I spent enough time suckin' the life outta plants on Tamriel. I want somethin' good. Somethin' tasty. Greasy. Good Earth food. You know what's around here, right? Pick somethin', surprise me."

He removes his arm from her shoulder. "I'll go fix up your livin' room furniture. And... maybe while we wait for the food you can... Lemme see your bedroom?"

No salads? Good. It's clear to see the cogs are turning as she smiles at him thoughtfully. "Hm... I think I know exactly what you need."

Glad she has an idea of what to get, she starts towards the kitchen as soon as she's free. Only for her to stop in her tracks when he casually brings up her bedroom. Gods, has she even tidied it?

She turns around and looks him square in the eyes. "The moment you step into my bedroom you will be incinerated with all the force of twenty wards." She lets that sink in, and without so much as a twitch of her lips, turns around again and heads into the kitchen to get a menu and order their food.

Excuse Harrowheart for his lapse in gentlemanliness, but hearing Isidor suggest she knows 'exactly what he needs' in such a slyly thoughtful manner has him turning away to hide a blush. Don't let her see that, she'll kick you out of her apartment!...

He has to clear his throat before can turn back, but just when he's looking her way she fixes him with such a stare that he's positive she's going to reprimand him. And then she says... That. If his face could go any paler it would. Her look is returned with a wide-eyed stare of his own. Like a fish gasping for water he flaps his jaw pointlessly.

And then she's gone! She just fucks off and leaves him like that!

It's a few seconds before he hesitantly calls after her, "So... We're sleepin' together on the couch tonight, then?..."

In the kitchen Isidor smiles and shakes her head as she pulls out a menu. Their relationship really did dial up a notch. He went from tenderly holding hands to expecting they'll both sleep on the couch together. As tempting as it is to remark on it, she's enjoying letting him stew while she sorts out their food.

Order done, she gets them some beers and brings them in. She lets Harrowheart explore the many channels on the television while they wait. It's relaxing to be able to let someone else choose what goes on, even if his taste is a little questionable. When the doorbell rings she's soon coming back to lay out the small feast. Although the quality is peculiarly good, the spread consists mostly of burgers, chips and onion rings. Harrowheart gets a kebab and a burger with chicken, beef and bacon in it, while Isidor tackles a large beef burger of her own. Try as she might to be refined about it, there just isn't a nice way to eat food like this. Isidor just reties her hair and tries not to spill anything.

Suitably fed, Isidor clears away their rubbish to the kitchen, brings out some chocolates for them, and proceeds to lounge on the couch. At this point she's so sleepy it's hard not to be relaxed, which makes her sprawling all the more natural. She doesn't protest whatever Harrowheart chooses to put on, though she does make a comment about him possibly enjoying a wolf documentary. Soon, however, with the blissful simplicity of television and the drowsiness of a warm home and full belly, Isidor leans against Harrowheart and settles in for the night.

She doesn't notice herself falling asleep. It feels like an age since she's felt safe and comfortable enough to simply drift to sleep. And she is so tired... It turns out that's the easy part. In the world of dreams she doesn't have a friend to hug her, or a television to distract her. Even the freeing effect of the beer doesn't follow her here. Rather the opposite, in fact. She's trapped with pieces of memory, twisted recollections of wretched things. On the couch she starts with distressed mumbling, twisting and turning, trying to escape from her mind in the physical world. It only gets worse and the panic in her dreams is mimicked as she starts to whimper and flail loud, but slow, like she's moving through a swamp. Finally, with a gasp, she jolts upwards, gasping and crying, pushing away anything nearby. That's when she feels the body underneath her and turns to see ice cold lights in a dead face. It's when he eyes drift down to his arms, to the point they end without their hands, that she startles again. Desperately trying to move through her sleepy haze, her head spins frantically this way and that as she moves. She only manages to get from the couch to the floor, closer to the fire where she has to stop to try and breathe through shallow, sporadic gasps.

Edited 2018-01-27 00:31 (UTC)

It's the longest they've ever been this close. This wonderfully, intimately close. His arms around her, her shoulder against his chest. He swears he can feel his heart beat. She fell asleep so easily, and he hated the idea of disturbing her. Sometime in the night he muted the television and unwrapped his wrist bindings, freeing his hands. A few hours in the silent dark pass easier when he can distract himself trying to follow along with a sign language interpreter on the television.

Then Isidor starts to mutter, so he holds her closer. His breath chills her ear when he whispers to hush her, but it doesn't help. Her struggles get stronger and his tight hold only seems to make it worse. Suddenly she sits up and as he quickly jerks away he fearfully whispers, "Isidor!"

She's crying as she beats against his chest in her scramble to escape, but suddenly stops. He watches in slack-jawed worry as she turns to look him in the face, and he can already sense her fear at the sight of him. But then she sees his wrists, and his chest tightens when he knows exactly what she's thinking.

When she escapes he lets her, but the sound of her hitting the floor jars him from his guilty stupor. "I-Isidor..." The concern he wants to feel doesn't come with his words. He drops to his knees to be with her on the ground even as his hands are already gripping her shoulders and pawing at her face, patting her, smoothing out her hair. "Isidor, Isidor," he tries in a whisper. "You're home. It's me. Isidor..."

But he won't get closer. His hands can stay on her, if she'll let them, but he can't come any closer. Not with her looking at him like she did. Not with her so close to the fire.

On the floor Isidor curls up, her knees pulling up to her chest while her arms limply try to cover her face. It takes a few minutes, but as she looks around she starts to realise she's not in her dream anymore. The gentle stroking gradually brushes off the panic surging through her veins. Coming back to her senses, she spots Harrowheart again and curls up tighter with a sob. She can't believe herself. How could she act like around Harrowheart?

She tries to say something, but even she knows it's too difficult to understand through the muffled sobbing. Sniffling, she lifts her head and wipes furiously at her eyes. Composure. She needs to get composure. But it's not working... "I'm sorry," she repeats. "I don't usually-. It was just a dream. I-It felt so real."

Edited 2018-01-27 19:42 (UTC)

She was only dreaming. She was only scared of her dreams. That's what Harrowheart tells himself. It's too difficult otherwise. It's too hard to watch her cry and know – no, think – that some part of her fear is from the sight of him. He wants to keep his distance, but then he hears her sob and he can't. He can't just leave her like that.

He carefully walks toward her on his knees and brings her into his arms when he's close enough. He sits behind her with his legs on either side of her and his head on her shoulder. His hands slip away and use the fireplace tools to stoke the fire, bringing it more strongly to life. She ought to have that warmth to comfort her, no matter how much his gut tells him to keep a distance from it. His hovering palms rub together in front of the fire, then spread apart to soak up some of the heat.

"Tell me what you dreamt," he whispers. "And I'll remind you that it wasn't real."

She's awake now. She's in her home. She's with Harrowheart. She's safe. While part of her struggles to understand this through her adrenaline, the other starts settling into the deep shame of reacting so violently to something that isn't even real.

"It's fine. It was just a dream." And yet her heart is still hammering, her mind still reeling from the sensations of danger, of terror, of failure. Where no clear image remains those feelings merge into a monster in their own right. "I thought I was at home. At the manor, but it was dark and I couldn't see anything properly. I... I was looking for something. I found some of the servants but when I went to ask them for help, they-." Her face contorts at the memory. "They were dead. They were... they were zombies. I didn't want to hurt them, so I ran away. There were hands, and bones, and I was underground. I found Viatorus, b-but..."

She can't help it. She knows it's not real. She knows this is stupid. They're just dreams, stop being a child. But she can't stop the tears. Burying her face in her hands, muffling her voice, she tries to continue. "Th-They were eating him. He was screaming. He wouldn't stop screaming." A pitiful sob. "He asked me to make it stop. He begged. And I... I just stood there."

It takes her a minute to continue. "I-I told him I'd get help. I left him. I left him. B-But then I found you. A-And they were eating you too. You needed help. But..." She goes silent. There's only the shuddering gasps for air and the sharp sniffling. Then she quietly keeps telling him, reluctantly. "Your soul was there too. You were both asking me for help. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything... But then your soul said he'd help me, and I... I got scared. Because he was moving to you. I tried talking to him but he wouldn't listen. So I... I..." Isidor's whole body tenses as she curls closer in on herself. She doesn't want to tell him, but she should. It's just a dream. It was just a dream. "I had your runeblade suddenly and I... I cut off his other hand. I didn't mean to. I just... I needed to stop him."

The longer Isidor talks the less confidence Harrowheart has that this was just a dream. It wasn't real, of course, but that's more than the average dream. Are most nightmares that brutal? That evil? He recalls what it was like to be afraid to sleep, but it's been so long since he dreamt.

He regrets asking. He really does. Not because he regrets knowing, but because he's suddenly so acutely aware of the fact that he can't help her through this at all. What does he say? What does he do? Does Isidor have to suffer alone through this?

Viatorus might be right above them. He could solve this. He could fix this right up, Harrow knows he could. But she already said...

He sighs a frigid breath from his nostrils and licks his lips. Isidor...

"It's just dreams," he whispers. "Just fake things you're scared of runnin' through your mind. Viatorus is just fine up in his room, my soul's safe in my runeblades – which are mine again, and my body's safe right here."

One of his warmed hands finds hers and he tries to wedge his fingers between hers for a tight squeeze. "And all of that's because of you. You're brave and smart and ornery, and you always fix everything. Anything less than that's just... Make-believe. Just bad dreams."

His other hand arrives bringing throw pillows and then a blanket from the couch. He tries to encourage Isidor to lie down rather than sit as she is, but whatever she does he's keeping his arms around her. A moment passes in silence, and while he isn't speaking he forgets to breathe. A long breath in precedes a quiet question.

"Did my soul really only have one hand?"

The more awake she becomes the more the heated adrenaline starts to cool in her veins. Harrowheart's cold presence only cools her further and a few small shivers run through her despite the meagre attempts of the low fire to warm her. She focuses on Harrowheart's voice. They're safe. They're all safe. She can feel Harrowheart right behind her, but her eyes drift to his arms and she has to try not to shift uncomfortably. Dead or not, he's still alive, strange as that may be. He's alive. Safe.

It's just as well that he can't see her face when he goes on to compliment her. She doesn't feel like any of those things right now. The thought of letting him down knots tightly in her stomach. With her focus on that, she doesn't resist lying down. She pulls her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of Harrowheart's face and rests one hand under her cheek, the other on his arm.

She's so lost in her own thoughts that his question catches her completely off guard. For a moment she considers brushing it off, avoiding answering… but she knows her reluctance is purely selfish. She doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news, and it feels like everything about that week was bad.

"Yes."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject