[ even though prompto is returning only a few scant minutes after she's crawled under the sheets, alisaie is dozing by the time he sits at the edge of the bed. her fatigue these last few days has been relentless, she could sleep for hours and hours and still not feel rested, though in many ways she finds it a bit of a boon. she cannot wander off after illusions or attack innocents when she hardly has the energy to be out of bed at all, and it's for this reason alone that she's yet to insist he strap her down. should she even escape at all she hardly has the strength to bruise a fly, let alone seriously injure anyone. small blessings.
the gentle pressure of his kiss has her eyes flickering open again, and prompto may recognize the distant bleariness, how her eyes take on that misty, unfocused quality that means her thoughts are tangling, her memory stuttering. for a few moments she stares sleepily at the bag, a crease slowly forming between her brows. ]
What's that?
[ at least it's not him she's forgotten, this time. ]
no subject
the gentle pressure of his kiss has her eyes flickering open again, and prompto may recognize the distant bleariness, how her eyes take on that misty, unfocused quality that means her thoughts are tangling, her memory stuttering. for a few moments she stares sleepily at the bag, a crease slowly forming between her brows. ]
What's that?
[ at least it's not him she's forgotten, this time. ]