[ alisaie isn't entirely sure what to expect. as prompto has already thought, so much of this is unfamiliar to both of them, and while most of what they do is a simple, natural extension of the friendship they had already built, there are some things that are always new.
a good sort of new. the exciting kind that fills you with anticipation, that makes every moment a tender surprise, and little things like this - small but terribly kind gestures - so memorable and moving. his words are sweet enough on their own without the help of the as-yet mystery gift, enough to make her chest tighten like her entire body is being squeezed, a painful, lovely, irresistible ache setting into her heart. that he would do so much for her, work himself so hard and yet still find time to do this, to say these words and find her this favor when it was not expected of him.. gods, he's truly something special, and for all she has felt unfortunate in life after the loss of a world, she has been fortunate in this. in prompto, her steadying hand, her light in the dark, the warm spot in her life that she can curl into when all else seems painful and dangerous.
when at last he reveals it, alisaie lifts her upturned hand to find the little silver locket, and it's easy to quietly marvel at how well he knows her in its choice, whether he'd known it consciously at the time or not. alisaie is not the sort to require grand gestures or flashy gifts, but this.. this is simple and elegant and - when her thumbnail finds the seam to open it up - perfect. a reminder of her own heart, of what is important, something to carry with her. ]
Oh..
[ it's a soft sound, a breath, and alisaie finds her throat tightening at the powerful wash of fondness that overcomes her and more than that, the sense of.. peace. like this little silver trinket is the center of the universe, a gravitational point that steadies and anchors her and puts all else in perspective.
she doesn't know what to say. words often fail her in matters of the heart. so instead she closes her fingers around the locket instead, holding to it tightly, while she slips off of the bed and into his lap, right there on the floor, her arms closing tightly around his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck. as always, she fits against him perfectly, easily, her form settling against his own like half of a whole. ]
.. thank you.
[ is what she says at last, her voice tight with emotion and necessity and fatigue, because what else is there to say? she's grateful, so grateful for him, for his thoughtfulness and tender heart, for all he is to her. ]
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a good sort of new. the exciting kind that fills you with anticipation, that makes every moment a tender surprise, and little things like this - small but terribly kind gestures - so memorable and moving. his words are sweet enough on their own without the help of the as-yet mystery gift, enough to make her chest tighten like her entire body is being squeezed, a painful, lovely, irresistible ache setting into her heart. that he would do so much for her, work himself so hard and yet still find time to do this, to say these words and find her this favor when it was not expected of him.. gods, he's truly something special, and for all she has felt unfortunate in life after the loss of a world, she has been fortunate in this. in prompto, her steadying hand, her light in the dark, the warm spot in her life that she can curl into when all else seems painful and dangerous.
when at last he reveals it, alisaie lifts her upturned hand to find the little silver locket, and it's easy to quietly marvel at how well he knows her in its choice, whether he'd known it consciously at the time or not. alisaie is not the sort to require grand gestures or flashy gifts, but this.. this is simple and elegant and - when her thumbnail finds the seam to open it up - perfect. a reminder of her own heart, of what is important, something to carry with her. ]
Oh..
[ it's a soft sound, a breath, and alisaie finds her throat tightening at the powerful wash of fondness that overcomes her and more than that, the sense of.. peace. like this little silver trinket is the center of the universe, a gravitational point that steadies and anchors her and puts all else in perspective.
she doesn't know what to say. words often fail her in matters of the heart. so instead she closes her fingers around the locket instead, holding to it tightly, while she slips off of the bed and into his lap, right there on the floor, her arms closing tightly around his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck. as always, she fits against him perfectly, easily, her form settling against his own like half of a whole. ]
.. thank you.
[ is what she says at last, her voice tight with emotion and necessity and fatigue, because what else is there to say? she's grateful, so grateful for him, for his thoughtfulness and tender heart, for all he is to her. ]