[ Even as the healers worked to heal his injury, he had not known he could feel pain like this. Perhaps at the time, he was in something of a state of shock, which helped dull some of the pain, but now, he feels every ripple, every surge, and it is testing his ability to endure.
But at the same time, if she believes that this will help, he has no reason to think otherwise. He curls further in on himself as the pain crests, finally seeming to break like waves on the shore, but he remains positioned with his head in her lap. Her presence and her touch is still comforting, and he cannot help but reach out for more.
His words momentarily fail him as he struggles to navigate the swirling storm of emotions and fears, and his head dips lower as his breath hitches. The absence of the pressure on the wound draws a deep exhale of breath from him, but he still cannot tell if any of the aches deep in the wound have lessened.
The conference... The tension in his shoulders reforms as he recalls how events at the conference rapidly swirled out of his control. She is not wrong in saying that he fears sustaining another wound, but more than that, he fears mishandling the trust that has been handed to him as Lord Commander and acting leader. It seems to him that that trust is already on a knife's edge, and all he has to do is make another wrong decision for it all to fall apart, either to his detriment or that of Ishgard's.
She speaks of another layer of armor, and he knows what it is she means, but he finds himself shaking his head even though he cannot properly verbalize the words. Perhaps the swirling of his aether will carry enough of the meaning for her to grasp it. She is far more important to Eorzea than he is, and he will not risk her safety or her life simply to protect his. Another leader could rise up in his place, and who better to assume that position than Lucia, or perhaps Artoirel, if either of them so desired?
She, on the other hand, is irreplaceable, as is her sister, and the thought of harm coming to either of them causes an even deeper pain to form in his heart. The hand that she has drawn to rest over her heart tightens against hers, and against his will, his shoulders begin to shake with a rush of emotion that he cannot manage to hold back. ]
no subject
But at the same time, if she believes that this will help, he has no reason to think otherwise. He curls further in on himself as the pain crests, finally seeming to break like waves on the shore, but he remains positioned with his head in her lap. Her presence and her touch is still comforting, and he cannot help but reach out for more.
His words momentarily fail him as he struggles to navigate the swirling storm of emotions and fears, and his head dips lower as his breath hitches. The absence of the pressure on the wound draws a deep exhale of breath from him, but he still cannot tell if any of the aches deep in the wound have lessened.
The conference... The tension in his shoulders reforms as he recalls how events at the conference rapidly swirled out of his control. She is not wrong in saying that he fears sustaining another wound, but more than that, he fears mishandling the trust that has been handed to him as Lord Commander and acting leader. It seems to him that that trust is already on a knife's edge, and all he has to do is make another wrong decision for it all to fall apart, either to his detriment or that of Ishgard's.
She speaks of another layer of armor, and he knows what it is she means, but he finds himself shaking his head even though he cannot properly verbalize the words. Perhaps the swirling of his aether will carry enough of the meaning for her to grasp it. She is far more important to Eorzea than he is, and he will not risk her safety or her life simply to protect his. Another leader could rise up in his place, and who better to assume that position than Lucia, or perhaps Artoirel, if either of them so desired?
She, on the other hand, is irreplaceable, as is her sister, and the thought of harm coming to either of them causes an even deeper pain to form in his heart. The hand that she has drawn to rest over her heart tightens against hers, and against his will, his shoulders begin to shake with a rush of emotion that he cannot manage to hold back. ]