[It occurs to her now, as she accidentally meets his gaze more directly... That his eyes have changed, too. They were not- They were not so pale, not so silver, when she'd first looked up at him from the floor of that lodestone cavern that somehow existed beneath a ceiling of eerie blue water. They'd been... more grey, like a thunderstorm on the horizon, and now...
She finds that she hates it almost as much as the wings hanging like parasites from his skeleton. And yet... there is nothing she can do about it. She is no mage, no witch, no expert in the ways of aions and this chaotic, foreign world of Horos... She can only fight, and guard, and... call. She can at least call him back. (And he said... He trusted her. Someone trusted her.)]
... Rest while you can, Estinien. You will be needed soon enough, if you are to lead the vanguard to Achamoth.
[He will need to respond to all those people clamoring for answers and attention in the strange space called "communion", so surely, now, while he can and she is there to watch over him...
Her own gaze, the dark grey eyes of a different storm, fall to her dominant hand, that had not so long ago pressed against his shard to bid him return from the clutch of the Innocence beast. If... If that medium was a comfort, if it was actually helpful for staving off its influence or its reach...]
- I will keep vigil, but perhaps... I will rest my body before we return to Lohkimareen. My flank may make a more restful pillow than the ground.
[... It definitely would, here at the rocky border near entrance to the valley that held the Shrine of the Innocent where they waited for Naruhodo and a revived Meteion to join them. But she still says... "may". Something easy to brush aside, if she has overstepped or if it reeks to him of unwanted sympathy. Something she had seen others so often doing with each other as they lay down to bed at night or took casual naps in the sun, in that village of orphans in the mountains that might no longer even exist... that she had never quite managed.
How pathetic of her, if she could conquer it only now.
Yet even still... after one more glance around them, the relative peace of their surroundings that allow her to feel it is acceptable to risk laying down (even if she will keep her bow right beside her)... she begins to fold her long dun legs beneath her and lumber down to her belly near to him.]
no subject
She finds that she hates it almost as much as the wings hanging like parasites from his skeleton. And yet... there is nothing she can do about it. She is no mage, no witch, no expert in the ways of aions and this chaotic, foreign world of Horos... She can only fight, and guard, and... call. She can at least call him back. (And he said... He trusted her. Someone trusted her.)]
... Rest while you can, Estinien. You will be needed soon enough, if you are to lead the vanguard to Achamoth.
[He will need to respond to all those people clamoring for answers and attention in the strange space called "communion", so surely, now, while he can and she is there to watch over him...
Her own gaze, the dark grey eyes of a different storm, fall to her dominant hand, that had not so long ago pressed against his shard to bid him return from the clutch of the Innocence beast. If... If that medium was a comfort, if it was actually helpful for staving off its influence or its reach...]
- I will keep vigil, but perhaps... I will rest my body before we return to Lohkimareen. My flank may make a more restful pillow than the ground.
[... It definitely would, here at the rocky border near entrance to the valley that held the Shrine of the Innocent where they waited for Naruhodo and a revived Meteion to join them. But she still says... "may". Something easy to brush aside, if she has overstepped or if it reeks to him of unwanted sympathy. Something she had seen others so often doing with each other as they lay down to bed at night or took casual naps in the sun, in that village of orphans in the mountains that might no longer even exist... that she had never quite managed.
How pathetic of her, if she could conquer it only now.
Yet even still... after one more glance around them, the relative peace of their surroundings that allow her to feel it is acceptable to risk laying down (even if she will keep her bow right beside her)... she begins to fold her long dun legs beneath her and lumber down to her belly near to him.]