open | with the sound of my heart

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa, Madi, Lucien, Skull, and YOU!!
WHAT: catch-all
WHEN: mostly Satinalia and later
WHERE: Kirkwall and The Gallows
NOTES: post-murderhaus h/c is gonna go here

Comments

[sulahnan]

She buries her face in his shoulder, crying it into a sodden mess that she'll feel guilty about after the fact, but for now she's not thinking in words or thinking about what she'll feel in the next few minutes. She just feels and weeps and feebly hooks her good arm around him.

[keenly]

"Their lives mean something," he says quietly. "You restored that to them. They went to their rest as people and not..."

He doesn't want to say any of the words she's used.

[sulahnan]

That gets a nod, and not a lot else by way of acknowledgment. She knows, logically, that she gave those elves the best care that she could; she buried them, gave them rites as well as she was able, but...

But what? She didn't even know their names, or what clan they're from. All she knows is the gods they'd dedicated themselves to. Mythal, Sylaise, Andruil, June, and Falon'din.

After a time, when the exhaustion of everything settles in and outweighs the tears she might shed, her breathing steadies and she quiets. Pulling away, she utters a soft "sorry."

For crying on him. For telling him about such awful things. For needing to be held.

"I'm sorry."

[keenly]

"You never have to apologize to me," he says gently, offering his handkerchief again. "All I care about right now is you."

[sulahnan]

She tries to offer a smile, but all she really manages is a grimace, and she leans forward again, her head thudding against his chest.

"I love you," she says. Whines, more like. A sweet, pitiful sound.

"I...should probably drink water. My head hurts."

[keenly]

"Good call." He offers her a hand up. "I love you, too. Let's get you some water. I want you to let that shoulder rest completely for at least a week. I know longer than that in your line of work might not be feasible."

[sulahnan]

She sniffles and wipes at her face with his handkerchief before the order of rest sinks in.

"A week?!" The incredulity has enough momentum to it to make her sway on her feet, but she stays upright. Miserable, but standing. What's she supposed to do for a week without the use of her shoulder?

[keenly]

"And I want to see you once a day. Just pop in and I'll give you a bit more healing and maybe if you're very, very good, you won't need the full week. You're lucky. Without magic, you'd be laid up six at least."

[sulahnan]

"Maybe that ought to be how we persuade people to get healed by mages. You can either be laid up for six weeks, or one."

The words are there, but the feeling is absent for the joke to land proper. She sighs and nods, resigned.

"What time should I pop in?"

[keenly]

"Whenever you have time. It can even just be at the apartment, so long as it's sometime."

[sulahnan]

Another nod, and as if the contact serves as better proof that she's acknowledging her orders, she reaches out and touches his arm, just a slight grasp of fingers for one moment before her hand drops again.

"I will."

[keenly]

He reaches up to grasp her hand a little more tightly than intended.

"You need to stop this. Getting captured and tortured, it's absolutely the worst of your hobbies."

It's meant as a joke, but there's a slight tremor in his voice.

[sulahnan]

"We were just...closing a rift," she offers as defense, but it doesn't offer much comfort. This is just another occupational hazard.