[ His state of being--his nature--makes him stronger, more agile, and capable of many things she has no idea of. Depending on the state of his vampirism and his own habits? He could wield extremely powerful void magic or none at all. It would not be so easily to take him out, and yet, there are certainly ways. One would not ally themselves as a nation to the void sent without having a way to control them. Unless Ishgard is as foolish as the City of Mhach. Even then, she cares for him, and worry is a natural state to accompany care and... well... using such a word is premature.
Even if the feelings inside her tell her otherwise.
She frowns at his description of her. Complicated. Perhaps it is unbecoming or even unattractive of a thing to be as such. Yet, he does not pull away, dismiss her, or even speak foul names of her. He stays as he is with his touch and allowing her to touch him.
He would take her to his home and see if she would wish to dwell there? She had thought maybe he might set her with merely a room atop some shop or perhaps some attic hidden away as if she were a unlucky secret. That is, after all, what she is. The elder witch--the true Matoya--had never treated her as such. She was as much an adopted daughter as the white haired Miqo'te she had as well, but, the younger Matoya still felt as if she were something meant to be kept secret. Not for her safety but for the safety of others. Ser Aymeric sees her as no such thing it would seem and instead offers her a home.
A real home.
Oh, her heart and soul have declared the decision, but her mind fights against it. Even if there is no reason to for her to deny him at all. Rationality has seemingly fled and instead she fights against the trauma that has bound her by fear to the cave for so many, many years. Trauma she wishes she might shed like a coat, but it clings to her and demands to shape her into a woman who would lock herself away from the world to be safe.
Just as his touch on her cheek had, his pull seems to cut through the ongoing battle in her mind. Her two toned gaze follows him a she returns to laying down and her heart stops for a moment. The world seems to pause and in an instant, Matoya shifts to be on the bed beside him. No hesitation is in her movements as she lines herself against his body, hands still a hold of his hand and his arm. Her gaze returns to his and she presses his hand against her cheek once more. ]
...t-tell me I... that I can. [ Matoya's voice cracks and shakes unlike when she had just spoken moments before. ] T-that I can go... t-tell me.
[ She knows what ways he had spoken of but seems to be wary of using. Yet, from her perspective, she needs it. She needs the push, the pull, the command to move her. Otherwise the fear will keep her from leaving with him. She cannot shake it as she does not know how. ]
I, I want...
[ Matoya finds her words once more stunted despite the desperate look in her eyes to say what she feels. As someone who uses words to craft spells? The notion she cannot speak of herself is terrifying within its own right. Yet, losing him, is far more terrifying. ]
no subject
Even if the feelings inside her tell her otherwise.
She frowns at his description of her. Complicated. Perhaps it is unbecoming or even unattractive of a thing to be as such. Yet, he does not pull away, dismiss her, or even speak foul names of her. He stays as he is with his touch and allowing her to touch him.
He would take her to his home and see if she would wish to dwell there? She had thought maybe he might set her with merely a room atop some shop or perhaps some attic hidden away as if she were a unlucky secret. That is, after all, what she is. The elder witch--the true Matoya--had never treated her as such. She was as much an adopted daughter as the white haired Miqo'te she had as well, but, the younger Matoya still felt as if she were something meant to be kept secret. Not for her safety but for the safety of others. Ser Aymeric sees her as no such thing it would seem and instead offers her a home.
A real home.
Oh, her heart and soul have declared the decision, but her mind fights against it. Even if there is no reason to for her to deny him at all. Rationality has seemingly fled and instead she fights against the trauma that has bound her by fear to the cave for so many, many years. Trauma she wishes she might shed like a coat, but it clings to her and demands to shape her into a woman who would lock herself away from the world to be safe.
Just as his touch on her cheek had, his pull seems to cut through the ongoing battle in her mind. Her two toned gaze follows him a she returns to laying down and her heart stops for a moment. The world seems to pause and in an instant, Matoya shifts to be on the bed beside him. No hesitation is in her movements as she lines herself against his body, hands still a hold of his hand and his arm. Her gaze returns to his and she presses his hand against her cheek once more. ]
...t-tell me I... that I can. [ Matoya's voice cracks and shakes unlike when she had just spoken moments before. ] T-that I can go... t-tell me.
[ She knows what ways he had spoken of but seems to be wary of using. Yet, from her perspective, she needs it. She needs the push, the pull, the command to move her. Otherwise the fear will keep her from leaving with him. She cannot shake it as she does not know how. ]
I, I want...
[ Matoya finds her words once more stunted despite the desperate look in her eyes to say what she feels. As someone who uses words to craft spells? The notion she cannot speak of herself is terrifying within its own right. Yet, losing him, is far more terrifying. ]