[ it may only get them so far away, but a distraction is a distraction, and after a day like this it is very welcome to do something so comforting, so simple and mundane as enjoying a silly story. even better that it's prompto who shares it with her.
when he begins to unlace his boots, however, there's a shifting misgiving in her heart, the pull of guilt. he shouldn't stay.. but gods, it's so nice to have him here. he may want nothing more than to ease her aches and pains but honestly it is the fear that unsettles her the most. she's a soldier, a fighter, she's accustomed to pain and discomfort, for as often as she lands herself in the infirmary - but flesh wounds heal, broken bones mend. this.. this sickness is nothing so simple, and she hides it well beneath her usual quips and jabs, but in truth, she is petrified. she cannot fight this thing with magic or a sword, nor can she reason it away. if it turns out to be nothing more than a flu she'll surely feel silly for it, but deep in her bones she's terrified.
there's no reason to share it. they both know what it is that they are facing, that this illness is devious and unknowable, and surely he is just as frightened as she. so little things like this, books and soup and his warm presence, are the best sort of balm she could receive.
she should stop him. she should send him away. but she cannot. ]
You claim to smell better?
[ she wrinkles her nose and sniffs, narrowing her eyes. ]
no subject
when he begins to unlace his boots, however, there's a shifting misgiving in her heart, the pull of guilt. he shouldn't stay.. but gods, it's so nice to have him here. he may want nothing more than to ease her aches and pains but honestly it is the fear that unsettles her the most. she's a soldier, a fighter, she's accustomed to pain and discomfort, for as often as she lands herself in the infirmary - but flesh wounds heal, broken bones mend. this.. this sickness is nothing so simple, and she hides it well beneath her usual quips and jabs, but in truth, she is petrified. she cannot fight this thing with magic or a sword, nor can she reason it away. if it turns out to be nothing more than a flu she'll surely feel silly for it, but deep in her bones she's terrified.
there's no reason to share it. they both know what it is that they are facing, that this illness is devious and unknowable, and surely he is just as frightened as she. so little things like this, books and soup and his warm presence, are the best sort of balm she could receive.
she should stop him. she should send him away. but she cannot. ]
You claim to smell better?
[ she wrinkles her nose and sniffs, narrowing her eyes. ]
Those boots of yours attest otherwise.