[ Her ears remain pressed to her head even with his fingers moving across them. A deep part of her longs for him to touch her, hold her, shield her from all that is happening. She has to remind herself over and over that he is in no position to do that. He is barely himself and still injured. If she were to move as she would normally, than certainly King Thordan would strike at him and undo what progress to his recovery has already been made.

Her gaze remains downwards with no inclination to meet his eyes. The hand that bares her engagement ring curls against her and she gently twists it by the back with her thumb. It is so very like him to deflect his own troubles in need of anothers. She, of course, is guilty of the very same thing. Except, she is aware he is the one in the right. She certainly does not receive the care she gives, but of her own insistence. She and her sister are the Warriors of Light of the Source. They should not need others to raise them up when they are the ones to carry the hopes of others.

If she is broken or fatigued makes little difference. They must push on for the sake of everyone else.

Her usually neat braid has become a mess--perhaps reflecting how she precieves herself on the inside. Her gaze shifts to the side and a gentle shake of her head is given. ]

I'm fine.

[ The tone of her voice implies she does not wish to convince him or herself. No, it is more a tone of resignation. A form of acceptance that how she is now is very well how she might always be.

She curls her shoulders slightly as the hand he holds laxes in his grip. ]

...once I've rested more, I'll finish tending to the rest of your injuries. But, before then, we should have dinner.