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Alorha listened without interrupting, though this time it was harder to keep her expression as neutral as before. Her brush kept moving, but the rhythm had shifted again—slower, more deliberate, as though she were putting more attention into each stroke than the wall actually required. It gave her something to focus on, something steady to hold onto while his words settled, piece by piece, into something far more complicated than she wanted them to be. When he spoke about it not feeling like being used—about it being something returned, something balanced—her hand faltered, just slightly. The brush dragged a fraction too long in one place before she corrected it, smoothing the paint back into an even layer, but the moment lingered. That wasn’t how she saw it. It wasn’t how she wanted to see it. And hearing him frame it that way—so easily, so gently—made something in her chest tighten in a way that felt difficult to ignore. She let out a quiet breath through her nose, steadying herself before she spoke, her voice softer now but carrying a firmer edge beneath it. “That’s not…” She paused, not because she didn’t know what she wanted to say, but because she wanted to say it carefully. Her gaze stayed on the wall, though her focus had shifted entirely away from the paint. “That’s not what I want for you.” The words settled simply, without force, but they didn’t waver. Her grip adjusted slightly on the brush, easing some of the tension from her fingers as she continued the motion, slower now, more absent. “I don’t want it to feel like something you owe,” she added after a moment, quieter but no less certain. “Or something you have to give back because I’ve been… decent.” There was a faint crease between her brows now, subtle but present. “That’s a very low bar to measure something like that against.” The faintest hint of something lighter touched her tone then—dry, almost—but it didn’t fully mask the sincerity beneath it. “You don’t owe me anything for being kind to you,” she continued, a little more gently now. “That shouldn’t be something that has to be repaid.” Her brush slowed again, hovering briefly before continuing, smoothing colour across the stone in long, even strokes. She stepped back slightly as she worked, giving herself a little more space to breathe, to think without getting caught too tightly in the moment. “I understand why you’d see it that way,” she added after a second, softer now, less firm and more thoughtful. “And I’m not… dismissing it.” That part mattered too—she wasn’t trying to undo what he felt, only to make him understand her side of it. “But it’s not how I see it. And it’s not what I’d want it to be.” A small pause followed, her gaze dropping briefly before lifting again, her expression settling into something quieter, more grounded. “If I choose that,” she said, more carefully now, “it wouldn’t be because it’s something you can offer me. Or something you think you should.” Her fingers tightened slightly, then eased again around the brush. “It would be because I believe it’s the best way to keep you safe. Nothing else.” That was the part she needed him to understand—not softened, not reframed into something easier to accept. Her attention shifted briefly toward him then, just a flicker, before returning to the wall. “And even then,” she added, a little lighter now, though the meaning didn’t change, “I’d still rather find a way where that isn’t the reason at all.” The corner of her mouth lifted faintly, not quite a smile, but enough to soften the weight of what she was saying. When he mentioned that she’d already given him things he hadn’t had before, her expression shifted again—quieter this time, something more reflective settling in. She didn’t respond to that immediately, but it stayed with her, threading into everything else she was trying to sort through. Her brush resumed a steadier rhythm, the wall now nearly covered, the room already beginning to feel less oppressive than it had before. “You deserve more than ‘enough,’” she said after a moment, her voice softer now, almost thoughtful. Not corrective—just… honest. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it lingered, filled with everything neither of them was quite saying outright. When he spoke again, telling her she didn’t need to decide now, that he trusted her, something in her shoulders eased—just slightly. Not relief, not entirely, but something close to it. The pressure didn’t disappear, but it shifted into something more manageable, less immediate. Her gaze dipped briefly, her voice quieter when she answered. “I’m glad you do,” she said, simple and genuine, though there was a faint weight behind it that didn’t fully lift. Trust like that wasn’t light. It wasn’t easy to carry. Her brush slowed once more before she finally stepped back, looking over the wall they’d nearly finished. The difference was subtle, but undeniable. Lighter. Softer. Not perfect—but changed. “I just want to make sure it’s not misplaced,” she added quietly, though there was no real doubt in her tone—only care. |
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Sage had cocked his head slightly as she spoke, trying to understand where she was coming from. Not because he was upset by it or anything, but for so long now his body has been what he'd had to work with. Her saying that she didn't want him to need to sleep with her as a thank you stilled him slightly. He hadn't thought about it, but it did make sense. He'd never liked using his body for that sort of thing, but he supposed what she was saying made a lot of sense. If he didn't have to, he certainly wasn't complaining. His face softened when she mentioned she would only choose that option for them if she thought it would be the right thing to do. "I know," he noted softly, offering her a small smile as he went back to painting, though he knew she couldn't see it or anything. He paused as she said he deserved more than enough, looking over at her with a somewhat surprised expression on his face. "This is more than enough," he noted. He wasn't entirely sure what else she was wanting for him, but when he was with her or in this room, he had everything he needed. More than that, really. He moved to start painting again, still thinking about what she had been saying. There were things that she'd brought up he'd never really thought about before. They'd always just never been applicable to his situation. Habits. Things he'd never thought would ever happen or need to happen. He hummed softly when she mentioned his trust, and how she didn't want it to be misplaced. "It isn't," he noted confidently. "The fact that you're thinking so hard about this because you want to protect me proves that," he added with a shrug. He shifted to the side slightly, to finish up the last little bit of wall that wasn't the right color, before stepping back with a happy hum. "I think that looks good ....what about you," he asked, tilting his head as he examined it. He hadn't forgotten their previous conversation, but they could move on from it if she chose to. Besides, he did like how the room was starting to turn out. Once she agreed it looked good, he nodded with a hum and shifted to the side to start working on the other wall, admittedly very much enjoying it all. He hadn't painted like this....well ever, technically, but not since the mid all those years ago. So it was nice. Hopefully, Alorha was enjoying it just as much. |
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Alorha felt the shift in him even before she fully registered his words. It was subtle—the way his movements paused, the quiet stillness that followed something she had said without much thought beyond how it felt to her. Her own hand slowed against the wall, the brush hovering just long enough to leave the faintest uneven edge before she corrected it, smoothing it back into place with careful, measured strokes. She hadn’t meant to unsettle him, but the realization that something she said could do that at all lingered quietly in the back of her mind. It reminded her, in a way she hadn’t fully grasped before, just how differently they understood the same things. She didn’t look at him when he responded, but she heard the softness in it, and something in her expression eased in return. There was a quiet relief in knowing he understood—at least in part—what she had meant. Not obligation. Not something expected or owed. The idea of it still sat wrong with her, no matter how simply he seemed to accept it. Her gaze drifted briefly toward the section of wall he had been working on, following the smooth, even strokes of color, grounding herself in something tangible again. When he said it was more than enough, though, her hand stilled again—this time not from uncertainty, but from something quieter, heavier. For a moment, she just stood there, brush resting lightly against the wall as his words settled into something she couldn’t quite ignore. More than enough. The thought of that—of this, of something so small and temporary being all he expected—tightened something in her chest in a way she didn’t know how to respond to immediately. Her gaze dropped slightly, focusing on the faint streaks of paint along her fingers rather than the wall itself. “It shouldn’t have to be,” she said after a moment, her voice softer now, not contradicting him so much as gently pushing against the idea. There was no insistence in it, no attempt to force him to see it differently—just a quiet truth she couldn’t quite set aside. “Even if it feels that way right now.” She didn’t elaborate further, letting the words settle as they were, unfinished but understood well enough. She resumed painting after that, slower at first, then falling back into a steadier rhythm as the silence returned. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just thoughtful, both of them carrying the conversation forward in their own ways without needing to fill every space with words. The soft scrape of bristles against stone, the faint shift of fabric when one of them moved, the gradual transformation of the room—it all built into something quieter than before, but not fragile. When he spoke about her trust not being misplaced, her expression softened again, though he didn’t see it. There was something grounding in the certainty of it, even if she didn’t fully feel she had earned it yet. Her brush slowed just slightly as she considered it, then continued, smoothing color into the last uneven stretch in front of her. “I’m glad you think so,” she said quietly, her tone gentler now, though there was a faint thread of something more thoughtful beneath it. “I just… don’t want to get it wrong.” That was as close as she came to saying it outright—that this wasn’t just about decisions or titles, but about him, about what it meant if she failed in a way she couldn’t undo. Her gaze flickered briefly toward the floor, then back to the wall, her posture steadying again as she pushed the thought aside before it could settle too deeply. By the time he stepped back from his section, she followed suit a second later, lowering her brush slightly as her attention shifted fully to what they’d done. For a moment, she didn’t speak at all—just looked. The difference was subtle, but undeniable. The wall no longer felt as heavy, the color softening the space in a way that made it feel… less like something imposed, and more like something in progress. Something that could become theirs, rather than something they had simply been placed inside. “It does,” she said finally, a faint, genuine note of approval in her voice. “It already feels different.” There was a quiet hint of something lighter in her expression now, the tension from earlier eased just enough to let it show. As he moved on to the next wall, she watched for a brief moment before following, dipping her brush again and continuing the work alongside him. The rhythm came easier now, her movements more natural, less distracted by everything else pressing at the edges of her thoughts. It didn’t erase them—not the meetings, not the expectations waiting for her—but it softened them, gave her something steady to hold onto in the middle of it all. And as she worked, there was a quiet awareness that stayed with her—not heavy, not overwhelming, but present all the same. That this—this space, this moment, this person beside her—mattered in a way she hadn’t expected. Not because it solved anything, but because it made everything else feel just a little more manageable. |
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Sage stayed quiet as she spoke, humming softly when she said this shouldn't have to be more than enough. He understood what she was saying, he really did, but honestly he didn't know what else to even ask for or hope for. "Maybe," he noted. "But right now this is how it works," he noted simply. "There's no reason for me to complain about it." Then he glanced over at her with a grin. "But, maybe you'll convince the council to pass some new laws or something, who knows," he chirped. She had the power to make a lot of things better for a lot of people....he just hoped she'd learn and grow enough to be confident in those decisions, if that's what she decided to do. He nodded when she mentioned not wanting to get it wrong, and he let out a sort of chuckle. Not at her, but more at his thoughts. "Well, I'm sure you'll do the right thing," he noted lightly. He did trust her...despite only having known her for a little while so far, he'd trust her with his life. Well....that's more or less what he was doing now anyway. As they stepped back from the wall, and she mentioned it looked different already, he nodded happily. "I think we'll be able to finish these walls at least tonight," he chirped, clearly excited about it all. It didn't take them much longer to finish the wall they were on, not to move on to the third wall they were using that color for. They had use all the paint he'd made, which he was glad about since it meant none of it would be wasted. Well, they could probably find jars to keep it in but still. It just worked out nicely. It wasn't super late by then, so he moved to mix up the darker shade, and they got that done too. That one took a little longer since it was a larger wall, but they had fun all the same. By the time they had finished, it was definitely time to start getting ready for bed. They both had smudges of paint on them, so he looked over at Alorha with a chuckle. "Why don't you shower and get ready for bed while I clean this stuff up," he suggested. "Then I'll hop in after you." He was exhausted, but it was a good sort of exhausted - the kind that came from having a day of fun as opposed to a day of hard work. He found himself hoping they could spend many more days like this in the future. |
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Alorha listened to him in that same quiet, attentive way she had settled into, her expression thoughtful rather than insistent as he answered her. She didn’t argue when he said that was simply how things worked—she could hear the acceptance in it, the way it had been shaped by years rather than something that would shift in a single conversation. But something in her posture changed all the same, subtle but firm, as though she had taken note of it and tucked it away for later rather than letting it go entirely. “Maybe I will,” she replied, a faint spark of something brighter slipping into her tone at his comment about the council. It wasn’t arrogance—not even certainty—but there was a quiet determination there now, something still new but growing. “Though I think I’ll need to understand a lot more before I start changing things.” Her lips curved slightly, a softer echo of her earlier nerves still present beneath the surface, but no longer overwhelming. “One step at a time.” As they stepped back from the wall, she took a moment to really look at it, her gaze moving slowly across the fresh color. It was subtle, but undeniable—the room already felt different. Lighter. Less confined. The heavy atmosphere that had greeted her when she first arrived had begun to lift, replaced by something that felt… open. Not fully transformed yet, but undeniably on its way. “It’s already better,” she said quietly, almost to herself, though her voice carried enough for him to hear. There was a note of genuine satisfaction in it, small but meaningful. For once, she didn’t feel like she was simply adjusting to the castle—she was shaping it. From there, the work carried them forward almost effortlessly. Time slipped past in a steady rhythm of movement and motion—brush against wall, footsteps shifting across the floor, the faint scrape of furniture as they adjusted their space to reach new sections. The air gradually filled with the faint scent of oil and pigment, and the soft sounds of their work replaced the silence that had once dominated the room. Alorha didn’t rush it. She moved with care, more deliberate than fast, occasionally stepping back to check the consistency of the color or the evenness of the strokes. There were moments where she paused just to look—really look—at what they were creating, as though committing each stage of the transformation to memory. And though her technique lacked Sage’s ease, there was a quiet focus in it, a willingness to learn rather than shy away from getting it wrong. By the time they finished the lighter walls, her sleeves were no longer entirely clean, faint streaks of green marking where she had been less careful than she intended. She didn’t seem to mind. If anything, there was a faint amusement in the way she glanced down at them before brushing it off and continuing on. When they moved on to the darker wall, she slowed again, her attention sharpening as the richer shade began to take hold across the surface. It changed the room in a different way—adding depth rather than lifting it—and she found herself watching more closely, more aware of how the colors worked together. It was no longer just a task. It was becoming something intentional. By the time they stepped back from that final wall, the difference was undeniable. The room no longer felt like it belonged to someone else. It wasn’t finished—not yet—but it was theirs in a way it hadn’t been before. Alorha stood there for a moment, her chest rising slightly with a deeper breath as she took it all in, her earlier thoughts of the meeting now distant, muted by the quiet satisfaction settling in their place. This—this she understood. This she could do. When Sage spoke again, her attention shifted back to him, and she followed his gaze down to the faint smudges of paint scattered across both of them. A small laugh slipped from her, softer than before but no less genuine. “I think that might be a good idea,” she agreed, lifting a hand slightly to inspect the evidence on her own sleeve. She hesitated only briefly before nodding, accepting his suggestion without protest. “Alright,” she said, her tone easy now. “But don’t stay up too long cleaning everything. It can wait if it has to.” There was a quiet note of consideration in that, subtle but present, before she turned and made her way toward the bathroom. The door closed softly behind her, leaving the room momentarily still again—though this time, it didn’t feel empty. When she stepped beneath the warm water a few minutes later, she let herself pause, head tilting slightly forward as the last traces of paint and dust washed away. The day replayed itself in fragments—the gardens, the meeting, the way her nerves had twisted and then slowly eased, the quiet steadiness that had followed. And then this. The room. The color. The sense of something changing. By the time she stepped out again, wrapped in fresh clothes and the faint warmth of the lingering steam, her expression had settled into something calmer, more certain than it had been that morning. Not fully confident. Not yet. But no longer uncertain in the same way. She paused briefly just inside the room, her gaze drifting once more over the walls they had changed, the faintest hint of a smile returning as she took it in again—before her attention shifted back to Sage, quieter now, but still present. “Your turn,” she said lightly, though there was a softness behind it, something that lingered just beneath the surface of the words. |
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Sage had laughed softly when she mentioned taking it one thing at a time, shrugging as he thought about it. "Well, you've got plenty of years to start bossing people around," he noted with amusement in his own voice. "I reckon that's enough time," he added with a grin and teasing wink. As they agreed the space looked much better in the green tones, he hummed softly, turning on his heels in a sort of slow circle, just looking around the room. It seemed like the day had stretched on forever - they'd just done so much. Had so much fun. He'd learned a lot too, given that he'd barely been outside the castle in a very long time. But it had been a good day. He nodded when she agreed to shower first, waving off her concern about staying up too late to clean. "I know, I know," he noted. "Shouldn't take that long," he added with a chuckle, moving over to pick up the dirty brushes and work at cleaning them off, as well as wiping off the mortar and pestle that he'd used to grind the paint together. He wasn't sure how long that all took, but when he heard Alorha's voice from behind him, he glanced over at her with a nod. "Almost done over here," he noted, moving to quickly place everything back in the boxes they'd been keeping them in before shifting to grab clean clothes and slip into the bathroom. He didn't take long to shower, though he was really tired by then and more than ready for bed. He zoned out quite a few times, though soon enough he forced himself to just focus and get himself done so he could actually get to bed soon. Once that happened, he was dressed and dry and out of the bathroom within ten minutes or so, leaving his hair loose this time since he was too tired to deal with it. He just flopped down onto the bed with a sort of groan, body relaxing under the blankets even before he was asleep. He drifted off fairly quickly ...but he did so with a sort of smile on his face, as he remembered all the things they'd done that day. It had seemed like a very good one. He hoped they could do more stuff like that in the future - it had made him forget about all the bad here, even if it was just for a little while. But that was more than enough. |
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By the time Sage returned and collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion pulling him under almost immediately, Alorha followed not long after, though her own movements were slower, more thoughtful. She settled beneath the blankets carefully, the faint scent of paint and soap still clinging to her skin, her mind lingering on the day in fragments—the gardens, the greenhouse warmth, the quiet laughter, the meeting, the way the nobles had looked at her differently by the end of it. It all blurred together as sleep slowly claimed her, her thoughts softening until they slipped away entirely. For a while, there was nothing. Then morning came all at once. Alorha woke slowly, her mind still caught somewhere between sleep and memory, and for a brief, fragile moment everything felt familiar in a way that made her chest loosen with quiet relief. The light filtering across the bed was soft, the air still, and her body instinctively settled into the expectation of something she had known her whole life. Her manor. The thought came easily, naturally, as though nothing had changed at all. She shifted slightly beneath the blankets, half-aware, already expecting the distant creak of old wood floors and the quiet rhythm of a home that had always made sense to her. But as her eyes opened fully and lifted toward the ceiling, something felt wrong. Too high. Too detailed. Too unfamiliar. The realization did not come gently—it hit all at once, sharp and disorienting, as her gaze snapped across the room and took in the truth she had momentarily escaped. This was not her manor. This was the castle. She was already here. Already placed into something she had not grown into, something she had not been given time to understand. The weight of it returned in an instant, pressing down hard enough to steal her breath as she pushed herself upright too quickly, the motion sending a wave of panic through her before she could stop it. Her chest tightened, her thoughts racing ahead faster than she could catch them—meetings, expectations, eyes watching her, waiting for her to speak with certainty she did not feel. The word queen settled heavily in her mind, no longer distant or abstract but immediate and unavoidable, and it made something twist sharply in her chest. She did not feel like a queen. She did not feel like someone who belonged at the head of a table surrounded by people who had spent decades doing what she was now expected to do without hesitation. Her feet touched the floor, grounding her just enough to keep her from spiraling further, though her breathing was still uneven as she pressed a hand lightly against her chest and forced herself to slow it. In. Out. Again. The panic did not vanish, but it shifted, softening just enough for her to think through it rather than be consumed by it entirely. She stood there for a moment, steadying herself in the quiet of the room, before her gaze drifted toward the bed again—and toward Sage, still asleep, completely undisturbed by her abrupt waking. The sight of him, relaxed in a way she rarely saw, eased something in her almost immediately. There was no tension in him now, no careful awareness or guarded posture, just a quiet stillness that made the room feel less overwhelming simply by existing within it. Her thoughts slowed as she watched him, the sharp edge of her panic dulling into something more manageable, something she could carry rather than something that would stop her entirely. Yesterday returned to her in pieces then—the gardens, the warmth of the greenhouse, the way they had laughed over something as simple as lettuce, the meeting where she had spoken and not faltered, where the nobles had listened instead of dismissed her. It had not been perfect, and she had still felt out of place, but she had done it. That mattered. It had to matter. Her gaze shifted then, drawn briefly to the wall they had painted together, the green tones catching the morning light in a way that felt softer, more alive than the room had been before. It was not finished, but it was changed. She had changed something. Even if it was small. That thought settled quietly into place, steadying her further as she straightened and drew a slower breath, her hands smoothing absently over her sleeves as she began to move. The nervousness did not disappear—it lingered, persistent and familiar now—but it no longer held her in place. She could feel it, acknowledge it, and still continue forward. That, she realized, might be enough for now. She moved carefully around the room, mindful not to wake Sage as she began preparing for the day ahead, her movements quieter, more deliberate than usual as her mind worked through what was waiting for her beyond the door. There would be more meetings, more decisions, more moments where she would feel like she had stepped into something far too large for her to fill. But she would step into them anyway, even if she needed a breath or two first. |
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Sage hadn't moved when she'd woken, nor as she had slipped out of bed. He was still there, peaceful, chest moving up and down slightly as he breathed. He was normally awake by then, but Alorha had told him he didn't need to be up at the crack of dawn just to go get breakfast....so he had decided to sleep as much as he could. So for now, he rested. He did stir slightly maybe half an hour later or so, a soft breath escaping his lips as he woke. He did register that Alorha wasn't still in bed, and peered around the room groggily for a moment until he found her. "You're up early," he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep as he rolled over onto his back, running his hands down his face in an attempt to wake up a little further. He could feel his hair splayed around him , and knew it would be a terrible mess as soon as he sat up and tried to actually get ready for the day, but he'd taken that risk leaving it down last night, so he shrugged it off fairly quickly. Besides, he was honestly still half asleep, so he shut his brain off after just a few thoughts. "You alright," he did add though, since Alorha was normally still asleep long after this. It was early, and he just wanted to make sure she was alright. That was his job, after all....well, more or less. Part of him knew he should probably get up and start getting ready, but he was comfortable, and still pretty groggy, so he wound up not making the move to get up. Alorha didn't seem like she was in a hurry to eat or anything....and she'd tell him if she was, he had made her promise that if he was going to sleep in she'd wake him up if she needed him to do something. So for now, he was more than happy to lay around for a while longer. He still wasn't really used to it, but he was finding out that he was much more of a night owl than a morning person ....and that he really hated waking up in the mornings. Well, waking up and needing to do things. Laying around and waking up slowly was pretty nice. |
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Alorha had been awake for some time by the time Sage finally stirred, though she had done her best to move quietly, letting the stillness of the morning linger rather than break it too quickly. There was something gentle about the early hours inside the castle, something that felt entirely different from the weight of the day that would inevitably follow. The corridors beyond their door were quieter, the usual hum of activity reduced to something distant and muffled, and the light that filtered through the windows carried a softness that made everything feel just a little less overwhelming. She had taken advantage of it, moving about the room at an unhurried pace, adjusting small things absentmindedly, pausing now and then as her thoughts drifted ahead to what was waiting for her later. The nervousness from earlier hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it had settled into something quieter, something she could manage—and for now, she allowed herself to exist in this calmer space before everything began again. When she heard Sage shift behind her, she glanced over almost immediately, a small, instinctive smile touching her expression as she watched him wake. There was something faintly endearing about the way he looked when he was still half-asleep, his movements slower, less guarded, his voice rough and unpolished as he spoke. “Mm, a little,” she answered lightly when he commented on her being up early, her tone carrying a soft warmth as she leaned one shoulder casually against the edge of a table nearby. “I think my thoughts decided sleep wasn’t as interesting as everything else,” she added with a faint, amused breath, though there was a hint of truth beneath the lightness. Her gaze lingered on him as he rubbed his face, clearly still caught somewhere between sleep and waking, and she couldn’t help the quiet flicker of fondness that followed. He looked comfortable. Safe. It made the room feel steadier somehow. At his question, her expression softened just slightly, though she didn’t let the earlier panic resurface in full. “I’m alright,” she said, and this time she meant it more than she had when she first woke. There was still a faint thread of unease woven through her thoughts, but it no longer felt like something that might unravel her entirely. Instead, it sat there quietly, something she could carry with her rather than be overwhelmed by. She pushed off from where she had been standing then, stepping a little closer as her arms folded loosely in front of her, her posture relaxed despite the weight of the day ahead. “Just… thinking too much, I suppose,” she added, her tone turning lightly self-aware, though her smile returned a moment later to soften it. “I’m starting to suspect that might become a habit.” Her eyes flicked briefly to his hair then, clearly noticing the state it had fallen into overnight, and a small, amused huff of laughter escaped her before she could stop it. “You know,” she continued, her voice brightening just slightly as she tipped her head, “I think you may have made a terrible decision leaving your hair like that.” There was a playful glint in her expression now, the earlier tension easing further as she leaned into something lighter, something easier. “I almost feel obligated to fix it before you scare the entire castle,” she added, clearly teasing, though there was an easy warmth behind it that made it feel less like a jab and more like an invitation just to... well, relax she supposed. A bit of both, really. She didn’t rush him, didn’t push him to get up or move faster, even though part of her knew the day would eventually demand it. Instead, she let the quiet stretch just a bit further, letting herself enjoy the rare simplicity of a slow morning. The meetings, the expectations, the weight of everything waiting outside their door... it would all come soon enough. For now, though, she allowed herself to stand there with a faint smile, watching him linger in that half-awake state, and found that the knot in her chest felt just a looser. He wasn't panicking about food or getting ready or anything... she didn't need to either. |
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As Alorha spoke, Sage felt his lips curl upwards into a sort of smile, humming in agreement when she mentioned her thoughts. "I know how that works," he noted with a sort of quiet amusement lacing through his voice. He'd had his fair share of early mornings and sleepless nights because he was worrying about something. Or multiple somethings, he supposed, but that was rather irrelevant. He nodded when she said she was alright though, letting out a soft huff of air. "Good," he noted softly, lips parting in a yawn after a moment. As she explained herself further, he chuckled softly, sitting up slowly and leaning against the headboard of the bed. "You're gonna have to learn how to just shut your brain up," he added with a teasing grin. Really he couldn't do that either. He wasn't sure anyone could....but he could shove them down and out of the immediate area where he thought, if that made sense. Then again, shoving his emotions down wasn't the best coping mechanism, so maybe he shouldn't be recommending that to Alroha. He wrinkled his nose slightly when she mentioned his hair, flicking a few of the strands over his shoulder to try and get them out of his face. "Probably," he noted with a groan. "I didn't care much last night but I think I'm feeling differently now," he added with a slightly exasperated huff of air. He just relaxed there for a while longer before shifting to roll out of the bed and grab a brush, setting down on a chair to try and work through the tangles best he could. It would probably take him the longest bit of time to deal with that, as opposed to getting ready with clothes and jewelry and such. As he sat there, he found himself looking around the room, lips twitching upwards in a smile as he noticed how the light bounced off the walls and made the whole space just feel a little less overwhelming. It certainly felt brighter than it was before. "I'll work at getting the windows to open and finish the design on the wall today," he hummed after a few moments of silence. "We have a few meetings this morning, nothing super important, so after that you can go out to the gardens or something and explore more while I do that if you like," he added with a shrug. "I'll probably get dust and stuff everywhere in here and I'd rather you not try to deal with that if you don't have to," he added with a small chuckle. |
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Warming, with Sleet and Heavy Icing
