[ He curls to the side, and Alkaid stiffens just a moment. She looks down at him, noting the pain that crosses his face. Her expression softens. She cannot help but wonder if this is the right thing to do. The injury and the flow of his aether say it is. Yet, that does very little to aid in the fact she must watch him speak and move in such pain. Had she known that all the trauma nestled in the injury? She would have suggested this for another time or during the day. Now that she has started? She cannot stop, and that merely makes her heart sink more.
She pulls herself to sit up properly once more as he shifts to his side. She positions herself so that her hand may still be on his wound, but he can curl around her if he so desires. His head might find a place in her lap once more as her fingers still curl through his dark locks to try and ease him through speaking his fears. There are no words she gives to try and put proof against his worries and fears. He needs to speak all that this wound seem to embody - both physically and in his mind - and speaking to immediately soothe the words would do little good for him. She is to listen and heal, not to speak in his defense or abash what causes the fears. ]
Oh, Aymeric... my poor knight. [ Her fingers ease at his healed wound just enough to remove the pressure. ] You place so much on yourself... you internalize it... and all it does is swirl and swirl... knotting you up on the inside... until it cannot fathom being inside any longer.
[ Her fingers start to move gently again to encourage his aether to flow through the injury once more. She can still sense the aches and pains deep down. However, she can see how labored his breathing is and how his mind tugs away. Should this be enough? The pull from his aether still tugs at her own, begging for more. ]
The conference has caused you to fear too , hasn't it? [ Her eyes close once more as her fingers move in circles. Listening, hearing, making conjectures. ] You're afraid of yet another wound; a strike that would find its way once more through your armor... one that you feel you could not bare...
But, my love, you have another layer of armor. One that Nidhogg, Ishgard, the world, would have to pierce to harm you again... [ Her free hand reaches for the one of his that is curled ever so tightly. Fingers slide in between the space of his own and his palm, guiding his hand to rest gently over her heart. The shoulder of the borrowed shirt has once again slipped off her own, but she has yet to notice the near revealing nature of it all. ] I should have been there when they struck you... insisted more that they allow me to heal the man I love... now, all I can do is ease your knotted heart and help your wound... and never let them hurt you like this again.
[ Her tail lifts to drape around his frame as if to further cement what she has said. Estinien is not there to be Aymeric's sword, and thus, she will be the armor he so desperately needs. There is no doubt in her mind that K'thisru would agree as well, even if her affection for the Lord Commander is quite different.
Her head tilts to the side as she continues to listen to what he might need that he would not say. ]
There's more ... isn't there? Something else that knots up inside that keeps you from easing entirely... what is it?
no subject
She pulls herself to sit up properly once more as he shifts to his side. She positions herself so that her hand may still be on his wound, but he can curl around her if he so desires. His head might find a place in her lap once more as her fingers still curl through his dark locks to try and ease him through speaking his fears. There are no words she gives to try and put proof against his worries and fears. He needs to speak all that this wound seem to embody - both physically and in his mind - and speaking to immediately soothe the words would do little good for him. She is to listen and heal, not to speak in his defense or abash what causes the fears. ]
Oh, Aymeric... my poor knight. [ Her fingers ease at his healed wound just enough to remove the pressure. ] You place so much on yourself... you internalize it... and all it does is swirl and swirl... knotting you up on the inside... until it cannot fathom being inside any longer.
[ Her fingers start to move gently again to encourage his aether to flow through the injury once more. She can still sense the aches and pains deep down. However, she can see how labored his breathing is and how his mind tugs away. Should this be enough? The pull from his aether still tugs at her own, begging for more. ]
The conference has caused you to fear too , hasn't it? [ Her eyes close once more as her fingers move in circles. Listening, hearing, making conjectures. ] You're afraid of yet another wound; a strike that would find its way once more through your armor... one that you feel you could not bare...
But, my love, you have another layer of armor. One that Nidhogg, Ishgard, the world, would have to pierce to harm you again... [ Her free hand reaches for the one of his that is curled ever so tightly. Fingers slide in between the space of his own and his palm, guiding his hand to rest gently over her heart. The shoulder of the borrowed shirt has once again slipped off her own, but she has yet to notice the near revealing nature of it all. ] I should have been there when they struck you... insisted more that they allow me to heal the man I love... now, all I can do is ease your knotted heart and help your wound... and never let them hurt you like this again.
[ Her tail lifts to drape around his frame as if to further cement what she has said. Estinien is not there to be Aymeric's sword, and thus, she will be the armor he so desperately needs. There is no doubt in her mind that K'thisru would agree as well, even if her affection for the Lord Commander is quite different.
Her head tilts to the side as she continues to listen to what he might need that he would not say. ]
There's more ... isn't there? Something else that knots up inside that keeps you from easing entirely... what is it?