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Who: Alisaie Leveilleur (

adelphoi) & you nerds
What: October general shenans
When: All month
Where: Everywhere potentially but probably just at her house mostly
Warning(s): Sick.. stuff?? idk probably nothing but will update if necessary.

PART 1;

a; aftermath

[ alisaie is not present in the marketplace when the attack occurs, but the resounding boom cannot be missed, even from her home flat. it's a hectic hour or so while she rushes to figure out what has happened, and when riza returns home sick she feels a heavy misgiving sink deep into her stomach. disease is not an enemy she can fight with her rapier, it's something insidious, something sneaky and unpredictable - gods help them find a remedy soon.

immediately, she's dashing right to work. with riza ill they'll need supplies - healthy foods, spare blankets, medicinal herbs, ice, a great deal of ice. once she's set with her list she's off to the institute and markets to gather what useful things she can, stuffing them into a canvas shoulder bag, but you can certainly bet that she'll stop to assist in any way she can, whether it's righting an overturned cart or leading those who were injured in the panic to the sanctuary.

of course, it's not long before she's feeling rather warm and dizzy herself and, of course, chalking it up to the rush and mayhem. maybe she'll just.. sit down a moment. ]

b; sickbed;

[ alisaie is an awful patient.

keeping her in bed is no easy task, and there's an itch under her skin that urges her to move, to work - there's so much she could be doing, ways she could be helping. this disease is a godsdamned prison.

she's responsible enough to at least not mingle with the public, lest she spread this horrible mystery illness further, but she cannot remain strictly indoors in bed for so long, not without losing her mind. so when she can, when the weather is tepid, alisaie sits on the second floor deck of her flat, wrapped up in a blanket, usually with a book (or stack of books), enjoying the fresh air on her too-hot face. ]

c; reaching out

[ what else can you do when you're more or less bedbound? catch up on the internet, of course. mostly, alisaie keeps an eye on the network for any updates, and takes the time to reach out to those she knows, to doublecheck that they're safe. if you've met her even once or twice, chances are she will toss a line out and test the waters. incoming message from RedMage: ]

This is Alisaie; how are you faring?

PART 2;

a; wandering

[ it's late evening the first time she sees him.

though first she hears him, the familiar voice of her grandfather calling her out of her dreams, warm and welcoming. she wakes in her bed, slick with fever sweat and surrounded by silence - mayhaps she had misheard it? it must have been a dream, her head is spinning. but then it comes again, distinct and clear; it has been years since she last heard his voice but it is not a sound that she would ever forget. ]

Grandfather..?

[ dizzy and disoriented, she climbs out of bed and stumbles toward the open window, squinting into the slanting light of sunset just in time to see the shape of him, louisoix leveilleur's all too familiar form disappearing around the corner. immediately her heart kicks up into her throat and alisaie gasps and turns, stumbling back through her bedroom and out of the house, down the stairs and onto the street barefoot, in her nightdress, to follow a ghost. ]

No, please wait.. don't leave me again..

[ how long she wanders in this delirium she cannot say, but her feet are sore and scratched and muddy, her hair down and wild from sleep and the tugging winds. she may run right into you, or trip over a flagstone, but short of forceful intervention nothing will keep her from her goal. ]

b; friendly fire

[ for those of you unlucky enough to visit her (or stop by her home for some other purpose) while the symptoms continue to worsen, you will find that her delirium has not abated. between bouts of lucidity and sleep she tries still to wander, to follow the voices and phantoms of her family and friends to whatever oblivion they might call her to, but it is not only friends she sees. sometimes it is enemies or horrible, twisted monsters. it's hardly a problem if she wanders outside, weaponless, but any creak of sound within her home would easily alert her.

blinking blearily, alisaie tumbles out of bed at the noise, her heart thudding and her mind cloudy, and she does not think twice before taking up her rapier and focus which lie across a chair in her room and stumbling into the dimly lit common area. her voice is rough from coughing. ]

Who.. who goes there?

[ catchall for october! alisaie will spent much of it being sick, apparently, so feel free to crash her place and visit.. make sure she stays in bed. get her texts or send her one, or meet up in the market!! if none of these prompts work for you i'm more than happy to work something out and write up a starter. ♥ plotting comment is here, or i can be reached on plurk for planning. i'm game! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ alisaie, of course, doesn't understand what there is to be upset about; it's not as if prompto lives alone ( 8| ), so she tilts her head after a moment's thought. ]

I'm sure he's all right, surely one of your roommates looked after him, yes?

[ 8| 8| 8| ]

[ In an instant, he pales.

- How could he have been so careless? Both to forget to see to Peo's needs, while he's probably anxious and scared and hungry, and to let something slip like that. He tries to be deliberate with his words, thinking before speaking, yet the realization hit him too suddenly for him to think better of it. Now she's - now she's asking him that, and -

His gaze breaks away. Putting off telling her is one thing, but he will not lie to her. Not ever. Even if the consequences of his oversight are already threatening to spill out into his tight features, his rigid posture, his fretting hands, flitting over the pages of the book he still holds in his lap. This - this night was never supposed to be about him. This was about her, helping her feel better, making her smile and laugh even though she's sick and the city is in chaos and they don't know who did this, or why. Now he's threatening to take more than he gives, once more, as he always seemed to do. Why, why could he just be here for her, unwavering and supportive, without falling to pieces himself, just once?

His exhale is sharp, burdened, wholly spiteful towards himself. ]

...Not anymore.

[ Then inhaling again quickly, hands up, quick to smooth, to assure, to do anything he can to keep the brunt of this revelation from hurting more than it needs to. Please. Please. ]

- It's - it's fine, there's so many other things going on right now, and - please -

[ Don't worry about him because of this. His friends deserved to be mourned - for what were they, if not all but dead to him now? - but not now, not like this. ]

[ at first she doesn't understand. not anymore? what exactly does that mean? alisaie looks mystified, her brow drawn as she watches the play of emotion over his face. were she fully present, she would realize it sooner, but everything is slower now, and it takes a few more lingering moments than it normally would for her to connect the dots.

he can't mean.. stasis, can he? all of them?

but of course, there's nothing else he could mean. gods - today of all days? alisaie's head is swimming; it's too much, it isn't fair. prompto had just begun to recover from the blow he'd been dealt days before, and now today, this.. this attack on the city, which she's sure he must blame himself for, in some way, though she has yet to address it (she will, you can be absolutely sure of it). but to lose his companions as well, and so soon after two of them had arrived..

alisaie understands, in her way. her family and friends have been in stasis since the moment she arrived, her parents, her brother, urianger, lyse, the scions all - she has x'rhun now at least, which is a comfort she is exceedingly grateful for, but there is still a hole in her heart where her family belongs. of course she's gotten by on her own, in no small part thanks to prompto's company, but it has not always been easy. moreover, prompto is not her; he's so much stronger than he gives himself credit for, but he is also sensitive, he cares for those around him, and losing his closest companions to stasis all in one day - she knows him well, knows his heart, knows how much it must ache. and she's angry as well, angry that it had to happen at all, to him. angry that he's been here all this time laughing over a silly book, hiding this from her.

but she can't be too angry, not when he looks so wounded, so raw. after a long moment of silence, and her gaze fixed upon him, alisaie speaks in an even, gentle voice, albeit firm enough to brook no argument. ]

Go and get him, bring him here.

[ In the silence that follows, Prompto can hear nothing but his own strained breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. Will she send him away now? He wouldn't blame her if she did. Even if he'd kept quiet in the matter for her own benefit, he can't help but feel guilty for keeping it from her. But by the same token, he feels guilty for burdening her with the awful truth of it now. There's just...nothing he could have done, to make this better, and now, he's only made it worse.

If she needs time, distance, a little while to herself before dealing with him on top of everything else, he'd understand. It'd be...only fair. She's already got so much to worry about right now. He'd wanted to stay to be a comfort to her, not the other way around.

...But then, she doesn't send him away - at least, not for the night, giving him clear instructions to return with Peo. Numbly, he unfolds his legs and shoves his feet back into his boots, though he doesn't bother with the laces. If...if he'll be back soon, there's no point, considering the short distance he has to go. And thank the Six for that - a long walk, left alone with his thoughts to dwell on everything that's transpired today, would not leave him in a good place.

So, hurriedly, he steps to the door, drawing into himself the pain he knows is shaping his very frame. But he stops there, a moment, gaze flashing up to meet hers with a look so honest and needful that he can't say the words he so desperately needs to.

Then he's gone, from her room and then from her flat, to collect his poor, neglected dog and the remnants of happiness he'd felt at home with him. ]

[ she hates it, that look on his face, the flash in his eyes that bespeaks so much more than he's telling. she hates that he is in pain at all, that the gods would be so unfair to him in all ways, seemingly from the very moment of his birth. he deserves better. he deserves more. but then, so many do.

it's an injustice that never sits well with her, that good people should have to suffer so disproportionately, and in all her days of lonely travel it is something she had never been able to come to terms with. eorzea was a wild place, its people petty and brutal, its weather and world inconstant and dangerous even at the best of times and alisaie had lost so much to it, been unable to save far too many people. good people. here, it seems, is no different, and she cannot fathom why he should ever have to feel sad, he who brings so much light and warmth into the world, into her life - painfully, she can't help but be reminded of emery. her smile was so like his, her life, in the end, so unjustly taken.

once he is gone she sighs and draws her legs up, looping her arms over her knees and resting her chin upon them. a tightness is building in her chest that clutches at her throat and threatens to tip her, to burgeon into heat and prickling tears all underlined by a silent, righteous fury that roils in her heart. with clenched teeth she presses it down, her fingers caught in her sleeves, her aching eyes closed.

all she can do is wait, and hope that he won't be too long. or worse, that he won't come back at all, that he'll stay away out of some backwards notion that he doesn't deserve to be here. it's not as if she could easily chase him down were he to isolate himself, but you'd better be sure that if he doesn't return soon enough for her liking she will do just that, flu or no flu. ]

[ The terrible truth of it is that he actually considers not going back. His short trip away from her watchful care over his emotional state leaves him bereft, cold, the night air nowhere near as refreshing and kind as it should be. If he goes back, he knows what will happen. She'll take care of him, sooth him, speak words so tender that they'll all but unmake him, and it would be so wonderful. But he -

He doesn't deserve it, and especially not now, when she's the one who is ill and should be recovering. She'd be frustrated with him for not going back, but if that meant she'd go to sleep and rest instead of having to patch him up once again, she'd be...better off, right?

But there's a stubborn voice in the back of his mind - it sounds quite a bit like Noctis and Alisaie both - that keeps his feet moving once he's entered his empty apartment and picks up Peo. The dog is overjoyed to see him, and Prompto him, and he grabs a bowl of dog food before -

Before he heads back.

He doesn't knock at the door this time, slipping back in noiselessly, second-guessing himself every step he takes back to Alisaie's room.

She'll hear Peo approaching first, as he seems to know exactly where to go without having ever been here before. He tears into the room, tail wagging madly as he hops up onto Alisaie's bed to greet her.

Prompto appears a moment later, once again hovering in the doorway, uncertain of whether or not she's change her mind about asking him to come back as he stoops to set down Peo's bowl. ]

[ time goes so slowly when you're anticipating something. the more she thinks about it, the more she worries that he won't return, that he'll stay in his lonely home or go wandering off to sulk somewhere far from her. it wouldn't be the end of the world, but it would be upsetting, and only pile onto her frustrations.

but he doesn't disappoint her. the sound of peo's clacking brings with it a rush of relief, and she sits a little straighter just as he comes crashing into the room, joyous and wagging. she breaks into a smile as peo leaps up and straight into her arms, rolling on the blankets with his belly up, smothering her hands with kisses. ]

Yes, I missed you too.

[ she croons, giving that exposed belly a good rub before she's glancing up toward prompto at last, who's hovering in the doorway like a ghost. her expression folds a little with sympathy, but mostly she's just glad that he came back to her, that he didn't run off as she was so worried that he might. alisaie pats the bed beside her with one free hand, the other still busy with peo, her voice scratchy but soft. ]

Come here, you fool.

[ It's hard not to smile at the scene unfolding on her bed, Peo and Alisaie exchanging affection in a way that warms his aching heart - even if his smile turns a bit apologetic at how Peo is slathering her.

He's wrapped up in observing, spectating, uncertain of how to...make himself a part of this, while at the same time, being back in her very presence quiets the loudest voices in his head. That reprieve, however slight, is so wonderful, so needed, that he can't comprehend how he ever thought to not return to her tonight.

Her invitation comes, and he doesn't hesitate. So what if he gets sick? Any sniffles or cough or fever he winds up with as a result will be worth it, to be with her, to hold her. He closes the distance between them quickly then, nearly jumping out of his boots as he slides onto the bed next to her and folds her into his arms, chin rest on top of her head.

This is where he's supposed to be right now. In a hushed mumble: ]

I'm so sorry.

[ For...for so many things. ]

[ the tight knot of relief in her stomach begins to unwind the moment he steps nearer, and once his arms are around her she exhales a hard and trembling breath, closing her eyes and resting her heavy head against his collar.

she shouldn't let him this close. he's not trying for kisses at least, which would be an absolute hard no, and she's washed up recently and.. and.. gods she doesn't need an excuse. it's been a long and harrowing day, it's difficult to imagine that just the previous night she was smiling and happy and well; there's nothing that could feel better in this moment than his arms scooping her near, the scent of his skin all around her.

but then he's apologizing, and alisaie sits back just enough to look into his face, sheer incredulity in her eyes. at once her hands are up against his touch, fingers catching in his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body beneath. ]

Sorry? What could you possibly have to be sorry for?

[ To hold her, just to hold her immediately has the tight ropes around his chest unraveling, even as her feverish forehead leans against him. Once he's there, any arguments he had against being this close simply dissolve, like they can't possibly breach the comfort her touch alone can bring. His arms are near trembling as they hold her, every effort going to keeping back the tears that want to be shed.

Oh, how he loves her.

She draws back a bit, her fingers in his shirt coaxing his eyes back open. He gives her the saddest sort of watery smile at her question, like it's sweet that she asks after what should be so obvious. ]

For...[ How does he put it? All his shortcomings, all his faults, that he couldn't be the person she deserved right now? ]

For being like this. [ His breathing catches and his gaze drops, but he goes on. ] You're the one who's sick, but I'm just so...needy, all the time. I just - I'm sorry I'm not...better than this.

[ Hadn't she told him he was whole and perfect, just as he is?

...How could she think those things, when they're so clearly untrue?

A better man wouldn't question her words. A better man wouldn't be clinging hopelessly to her. A better man wouldn't be -

Like him. ]

[ the look in his eyes breaks her heart, squeezing it in a tight fist - it's physically painful, a tightening in her ribs that threatens to suffocate her. his explanation has her utterly bewildered, and all the while he talks the crease in her brow grows deeper and deeper, her mouth working like she wants to argue but she just can't quite find the words.

because she can't. how can he believe this? of course she knows that he does, that he certainly wouldn't lie about such things but it still leaves her speechless, and unsure of how to combat it. gods, she's good at loving people, she's a fiercely protective soul but it's so hard to fight something like this, a foe like smoke, the shadows in his heart not something she can wrestle away with her bare hands. what could she possibly say to soothe him? to convince him that he is wrong? she has no idea how to approach it, it seems such an intimidating foe, insurmountable, one she does not have the strength to challenge.

at last she swallows thickly, lifting her right hand to smooth it gently over his cheek and jaw; she aches to draw him closer, to kiss his pain away, to show him how wrong she is. physicality is so much easier for her than words.

but she speaks soon enough, her thumb drawing over the crest of his cheek, her touch tender, but her eyes are sharp when they find his, holding fast. ]

It isn't up to you to decide what is good for me, what is better for me, the sort of person that I should love.

[ she cannot kiss him, but she can lean close at least, to touch her brow to his. ]

You cannot help these things that have happened to you, and your hurts, the things you are feeling -- [ her hand drops down to his chest, over his heart. ] -- this is what makes you who you are. This is why I love you. Never be ashamed of your heart or your pain.

[ Another moment of silence follows her words, and for the way his eyes still don't rise again to meet hers, she may think they haven't sunk in. But the reality is quite the opposite. He's silent, because he's letting her words wash over him, melt into his skin, seep into his very bones and the matter that made him up. It's been...a struggle, his entire life, to not feel this way. To not feel a burden, to not feel the icy, chronic embrace of shame. He's always been an outcast, lonesome, before he'd ever truly learned what he was, and once he'd found friendship in Noctis, Ignis and Gladio, he'd been so desperate to keep them around that he smiled through the pain, made himself okay, lifted them up when they couldn't lift themselves.

The truth is that...he'll probably never be completely free of that shame that was written on his heart, indelible as the code print on his wrist, always a little bit afraid that he's less than human because of the circumstances that brought him life, and even more so the impossible odds that spared him from the fate that millions of others just like him suffered. How could he be anything but happy, generous, giving when owed a debt such as that? It feels like a betrayal of this wonderful chance at life he'd been granted to suppose otherwise.

And yet...her words are so certain, so bold, that they leave no room for doubt. Was it really okay? For every way the world kept seeing fit to have him suffer, could he let himself just be sad in earnest, instead of apologizing for even having those feelings in the first place?

After all...that's only human, isn't it?

Her brow is warm - blazing, really - against his, her hand gentle against his gradually slowing heartbeat, and finally, he moves - hands first, one lifting to knot in her hair at the back of her head and the other steadfast on her back. He inhales a deep breath that shudders, quakes, before he finally looks up to meet her eyes. ]

- I didn't even get to say goodbye -

[ He doesn't hold back the tears this time, the weight of everything bleeding, gushing out of him. For the bomb that went off in the market during his watch, for the people who were sick and scared, for the unknowable, and most of all, for the loss of his friends. The three people in the whole world who had ever made him feel wanted.

...Thank the gods he's found one more. Without her, he'd be lost.

But he isn't. He isn't. ]

[ alisaie has never been the sort of person to hide her feelings, to try to crush or censor them. of course it had always been a point of contention as she grew, sharlayans are notoriously stuffy folk, disciplined and strict, there was not much room for an ornery, emotional girl.

but for all they had tried to wring it out of her she has never lost it, it was too strong for her to ever grow out of. she does not put a lid on what she is feeling but allows herself to experience it, to express it, and while she might push it down in order to achieve something it is never for good, she must vent it somehow, in some way. it's healthy, it's necessary, holding in your pain will only make it fester, an infection of the soul waiting to take hold. she cannot allow that to happen to him, she cannot stand by idly while he wears himself down beneath the weight of all the things he refuses to feel because he does not consider it valid.

she can't force it, she can only do what she can to persuade him to open, to spill out and expel all that ichor and bile on his own, and she worries for a moment that he will refuse her, that he will swallow it all down again and go to a place where she cannot reach him - but in the end he does not disappoint her. he folds, and gods it's painful to see, but it's cathartic as well, and an absolute relief. ]

I know.

[ her words are so soft they're little more than a breath, and alisaie lifts her arms to slip them over his shoulders and pull him down, to guide his head beneath her chin so she can gather him up close, resting her flushed cheek against his hair. ]

Let it ache, love.

[ She tells him to ache, and so he aches, fiercely, with his entire being, radiant, unspent emotion. To have his friends one moment and lose them the next was a reality of this world, one of the bittersweet truths of an existence that could give as easily as it could take. And...it will take him a long while to recover. For losing his dearest friends, maybe he'll never fully recover. They've made him into so much of who he is, been the guiding point in his life for so long, and now, for the first time since the day he became friends with Noctis all those years ago, he's bereft of the brotherhood the four of them had built together. He will still have to figure out who he is without them, a task which he had started in the snowy fields of Niflheim, when he'd decided to face his worst fears.

But that could wait - would have to wait, because for now, he just lets himself hurt.

He rests his head, somehow heavy and light at the same time, against her heart, his grief hiccuping out of him in waves, holding her so tightly his fingers tremble. There's nothing to do then but to cry, to whimper beneath the weight of his reality, and let it all out. It's cleansing in a way he's never really known, like she's stripped his soul down to the barest parts of himself and coaxed them out.

And finally, after however many minutes it takes, his eyes and mouth dry, leaving him feeling wrung out, his heart exhumed. It's painful - oh, is it painful - but there's a visceral, exquisite beauty in it, too, to feel so bare and not be ashamed of it.

She'd told him to let it ache, so he had.

His voice rises, crackling and swollen, at long last, though it is barely more than a whisper. ]

I love you.

[ And he tips his chin up, pressing a gentle kiss just above the neckline of her nightdress, near her heart. ]

[ she says nothing, for there is nothing left to say, nothing she could say to ease his suffering. grief is a terrible, all encompassing thing, it hits with the force of a train and it does not relent, dragging you beneath the rails until it hurts so badly you're sure it will kill you. there is no rest, no reprieve, it is a deep wound that only time can heal. and even then, there is a scar that you will carry with you always. it is a pain that you can never fully escape.

but there is nothing wrong with that. pain, like joy, is simply a part of existence, it is something you cannot avoid, as inevitable as death. all those who live suffer losses, some small and some great, and it is from that pain that you grow stronger - at least, that is what alisaie believes. without the grief she has known in her life she could never truly appreciate the love, or all the good things she has, the sweet memories and fair times that make it all worthwhile.

and so she holds him, and she nuzzles into his hair, dragging her fingers against the nape of his neck in slow, soothing circles. each wracking sob tears at her heart but she can only endure it and hold to him, to be his tether in the storm of his grief, weathering the crash of every wave until at last it begins to lose strength and slowly, with each breath, he settles. and even after he is stilling, as his breath begins to even out she continues to hold to him, humming softly into his hair, drawing her fingers over his nape.

at his kiss, his raw words, she smiles and squeezes her arms around his shoulders. ]

I know.

[ she teases, gently, drawing a hand down his back and up again. ]

And I love you.

[ He inhales and exhales deeply, a heavy, weighty thing that stretches his chest wide, back rising and falling beneath her hands. He lets his head rest against her again, because after a good cry like that, he's drained. What he wouldn't give to just...close his eyes and stay like this, the three of them curled up together on her bed. He yearns for the comfort her embrace brings, and if he stayed here, he could better keep an eye on her condition. It's easy to rationalize, with her surrounding him, and something tells him that even with as sick as she is, she wouldn't hear of him going back to stay at his place, empty and lonely. ]

Can I...stay here tonight?

[ Maybe he should have grabbed a change of clothes while he was over there, too, but he'd never be so presumptuous without asking first, even if this isn't the first time they've shared a bed.

Not that...they should share the bed. Probably. He could make one out of the couch, and then she wouldn't have to feel guilty for him keeping too close. But man, it's going to be hard to move from this little spot of warmth and peace he's found. ]

[ it feels like a bubble of tension has been popped, like the very space around them is relaxing slowly with every breath. it might have been painful for him to release it all but it was for the best, and she's sure that in the morning he'll feel the better for it. it will still ache, but with hope it will be a bearable pain, one he won't have to work quite so hard to keep at bay. ]

Of course.

[ she says it in a way that suggests she wouldn't have allowed otherwise because yes, prompto is absolutely correct in assuming that she would never permit him to go sleep alone in that empty place. he'll stay here, and peo too, and hopefully it will help to chase away the shadows. alisaie holds onto him for a short while longer, drawing her hands down and up his back before she's pulling away a bit. ]

Is there anything you need to get?

[ As much as he'd like to say there isn't so he doesn't have to leave once again, there...are probably a few things he should pick up, if he's going to be crashing here. From the way she answers, it sounds like she won't be letting him sleep by himself anytime soon, either. Which sounds - wonderful, in a dazed way that feels unreal. But he would be spending plenty of time over here while she's sick, even if his friends hadn't returned to stasis. Maybe it would have come to this anyway. ]

...Yeah, a few things. [ A toothbrush, clean clothes, toiletries...he may be heartbroken, but hygiene is still important! He tucks his chin down to sniff at his collar. He has been running through the city all day, in and out of infected areas, handling spoiled food...man, he cuddled her like this??

A grin tugs one side of his mouth, apologetic. ] ...Aaand a shower.

[ that charming little smile warms her heart, and she must try very hard to resist the desire to lean in and kiss him right on that mouth, but somehow she manages. he's already sounding a little more like himself without forcing it. ]

Mm, you are a bit ripe.

[ she teases - well, sort of. she can certainly smell the day's sweat on him, he's been hard at work, and she doesn't much mind but a bath at the end of a day like this would be a therapy in and of itself, she's sure. washing away the pain and fear and hurt, and she dares to risk a warm kiss to his forehead, and another to his temple, because he'll be scrubbing himself momentarily. please don't try to lick your own face, prompto. ]

Go on, then.

[ He'll try to abstain.

It's hard not to kiss her mouth as he goes, but he opts for her cheek instead, and this time when he draws away, he appears as though he's a thousand pounds lighter than before. The hurt isn't gone, and it wouldn't be for some time, and even aside from his grief there was still so much troubling his heart. But he's shared it, he knows now that this is where he belongs tonight. With her. ]

I'll be back in a jiff.

[ And without explaining what a jiff is, he squeezes her hand once more before stepping out again, leaving Peo to keep her company. There's no question to whether or not he'll return this time. It's a quick trip, though he's sure to wash up adequately so she won't give him a hard time for those tender touches they'd shared. He packs a bag of things he'll need to spend the night, changes into a comfy pair of sweats and a tank to sleep in, and leaves his hair the fluffy mess it is as it dries from the shower.

Now he's really earning that chocobo comparison.

Then he's on his way back. It's - strange. Two weeks ago...he'd never had guessed he'd be preparing to spend the night crashing at Alisaie's, but...he's never been a good guesser.

So he steps through her bedroom door for the third - and final - time that night, eyes bright but tired as they meet hers. He clicks the door shut behind him this time and drops his bag to the floor, but not before pulling a treat for Peo out of one if its pockets. ]

Figured I owed him an apology treat, at the very least.

[ she isn't idle while he's gone, of course.

alisaie had not been prepared to host him tonight, so she slides out of bed to clean up, to swipe away any tissues and change the sheets, to scrub her hands and her face but gods even that much seems such an insurmountable task. by the time he's returning she's just sitting at the edge of her bed again in a fresh nightdress, weary and warm and coughing into a handkerchief.

it's horribly frustrating, to be so exhausted by menial tasks that should be simple and easy, but even after spending the entire day in and out of naps just the simple process of straightening up has exhausted her.

still, she has a sweet smile for him when he reappears (and the coughs abate), and she wipes the water from her eyes before she's drawing back into the bed. ]

Welcome back. [ she says around a scratchy voice, clearing her throat. peo hops up onto the blankets near her feet, turning a circle and flopping down comfortably, clearly more than happy to spend the night. ] Peo ate while you were gone, but I'm sure he will not begrudge you a treat.

[ ...Her voice sounds awful, and don't think he doesn't notice her wiping at her eyes. But there's nothing they can do for it now - except sleep, really, which will hopefully ease her suffering somewhat, and tomorrow...

Tomorrow is another day.

He slides onto the bed next to her, holding the treat out to Peo so he can scarf it down in one bite (come on, at least try to savor it!), before tucking himself under the sheets and snuggling close, finding one of her hands with his and slotting their fingers together. ]

Got it in one. [ His gaze turns to her, heartbeat picking up a bit even though she'd told him this was okay, told him he should stay with her. ]

A-are you sure...you don't want me to sleep on the couch, or something?

[ He's just. Making sure. ]

[ .. she really should make him sleep on the sofa. she's changed the sheets and pillowcases, and so long as she doesn't, you know, bleed on him or cough directly into his mouth it's highly unlikely he'll get sick, but.. gods, she worries anyway. alisaie bites her lip.

but then, instead of sending him away she simply turns away from him and wriggles in close, pressing her back to his chest and using their entwined fingers to tug his arm around her middle and hold it there.

she's warm, uncomfortably so, but it's worth a little discomfort to be this close to him, to sleep with his arms around her. ]

Just hold me like this.

[ it'll have to do. this way, even if she wakes up coughing it'll be away from him, and not towards. clearly this is good enough for her, because she soon reaches with her free hand to flick off the bedside light, plunging them into comfortable darkness broken only by a sliver of slanting lamplight filtering through beneath her window curtains. ]

[ It's the answer he wants to hear, though maybe not the one he should want to hear. He doesn't want her keeping herself awake with anxiety about possibly making him sick, and would his presence really be enough to -

No, he can't let himself think like that. Not now, when she's pressing so softly against him, guiding his arms around her, though they take little coaxing. He breathes in deeply, settling snugly against her as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. ]

Okay.

[ ...She's so unnaturally warm. Gods, he's so worried about her.

But rest is what the two - really, the three of them desperately need, and her form gently curved within his quiets his thoughts enough to allow for his utter exhaustion to take over. It's mercifully easy to let sleep take him, then, though his rest is littered with dreams, reliving the day, imagining what the next one might bring. They pepper his night with bouts of wakefulness that claw at his chest - but then he feels her form against him, her steady, unfaltering presence even when she herself is ill, and he's able to sleep once more. ]

[ prompto isn't the only one to sink right to it. alisaie is a good sleeper even at the worst of times, but with his arms around her and the scent of him so close, and peo curled between them like a little warm bundle - it has been a difficult day, but they are content, and it isn't long at all before the room falls all but silent for the sound of their steady breathing.

she sleeps soundly through the night, through his bouts of wakefulness, with her fingers held loose in his own and her body curled comfortably. it's just before dawn when she wakes, groggy and disoriented and far, far too hot.

groaning softly against her pillow, alisaie shifts, exhaling hard, and she's trembling with an impossible chill in her bones despite the fact that she's slick with sweat enough to dampen her hair and nightdress, and the sheets beneath her. her head is spinning and for a moment she can't remember where she is, what is happening, until peo approaches with a soft whine, licking unhelpfully at her face.

moving feels impossibly difficult, but she shifts anyway in the tangled, sweat-damp sheets, reaching for the glass of water she's left on the nightstand but she's dizzy and groggy and she knocks it instead. it crashes to the floor with a noisy splash and shatter, accompanied by a breathless, colorful swear. ]

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i can't believe she han solo'd him

8') puts promptos hair in buns

couple's costumes

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