[Closed, Mature] Never Felt Like Any Blessing

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 28 Hamis, 2720
Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

Aurelie’s hand was on his cheek, still, damp on damp; it shifted, and he felt her thumb trace a small arc over his cheek, tugging at the wet, salt-scraped skin. Aremu turned his cheek to settle against it, his eyes flickering comfortably closed. He was still holding her hand in his, his thumb exploring curiously.

He could picture the scar, he thought; he’d looked at her hands enough for it. He found the outlines of it, slow and steady, tracing them; he went on to the next, then, finding the smaller line and slowly shifting his thumb along it. He thought that they formed a pattern with her freckles, and if there had been light enough, that he could have found shapes in them, understood them.

Cooking and needlework, Aurelie said. For a moment, Aremu had nearly forgotten; he frowned a little, and her hand stopped. She didn’t take it away, though; he was glad of that.

Puzzles, Aurelie said, and she let out a soft little giggling sound. Aremu smiled; he found he could picture a little Aurelie – his mind sort of substituted a shorter version, with a rounder face; he wasn’t sure whether to give her less or more freckles – earnestly squinting at blocks of wood.

“Yes,” Aremu murmured; he shifted against her a little more. His legs were cramping, a bit; he drew his knees up, resting his feet flat on the ground; the rock was cool and wet, and felt pleasant, for all it seemed to sort of prickle against him.

“I liked them as a boy,” Aremu went on; his eyes fluttered shut. “Uzoji had some, and we liked to do them together. I told my mother about them, and she bought me one for myself.” His face tightened, and a little wrench went through him.

“I spent hours on it,” Aremu said, slowly. “It was… it had a lot of pieces, and I liked putting them together; it was shaped like an airship. I was nearly done when my father found it,” his hand softened on hers, just a little. It didn’t hurt, he thought, here, to talk about it. There was no room left for pain with the ache in his head; it drove out all the rest, and he was left strange, and floating, distant. He thought of an airship, and an anchor; he felt as if Aurelie’s hand on his cheek, and the droplets of water from her hair, her fingers woven through his, were all that held him to Vita.

“He burned it,” Aremu murmured; his thumb traced the delicate bones of Aurelie’s hand, from her knuckle to her wrist, slowly, and then back up again. “He explained to me it was a waste of time. I never did another one; I told Uzoji it wasn’t allowed. I don’t like to talk about him very much,” he sighed a little. “I can’t think why just now.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Afternoon | Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

What was she doing, touching him like this? Just because it was dark, just because she needed him to stay awake. Just because, she thought with a little swallow, he turned into her hand against his cheek, and traced the scars where their hands were clasped. He was clearly delirious; she could think of no other explanation. It was—wrong, to take advantage so. Wasn't it?

She couldn't stop, couldn't take her hands away, but she could talk about puzzles. She felt him frown, and then she thought she felt him smile. He shifted position, and Aurelie kept very, very still. He was injured, she reminded herself. She really needed to stop. This was hardly the time. If only giving herself a stern talking-to worked; she felt a mild degree of despair at herself.

He started to talk about puzzles, and it was in much the same way he talked about engines—like it was all far behind him. Aurelie couldn't decide, quite, if she should smile yet. Even if the picture was very sweet, both of them working on a puzzle together. When Aremu's face shifted again under her hand, Aurelie decided to wait on the smiling after all. It was shaped like an airship, he said, and she almost smiled again. My father found it, he continued, and his hand loosened its grip on hers.

At least, she thought, he didn't let go. And at least, too, she didn't grasp too tightly when he continued again. No matter how much she wanted to. He was still running his thumb over her hand, over the bones that led to her wrist—they had names, she had heard it once outside of a Living Conversation class. She couldn't remember them, and it didn't matter.

Thank the Lady for the dark, she thought rather fervently, that she hoped might hide some of her face. She didn't know what sort of expression she should make, hearing something like that. She couldn't help but think of the child in the photo, that serious little face, bent over a puzzle. For hours and hours. She didn't know what to say; nothing she could think of seemed quite right, or adequate.

Aurelie could think of many things she wanted to do, and none of them were appropriate or helpful. What they were was selfish, mostly. He was wrong, she wanted to say, but that didn't make much of a difference. Aurelie sighed, a quiet little noise, and she resumed the movement of her thumb over his cheek, still wet from the water. From the constant dripping of her hair. A couple more didn't matter, either. This time she knew she was doing it, and she didn't stop.

"Then let's not. I said things you like, didn't I?" She threaded their fingers back together, more deliberately. "Something else, then. Go on. I'm sure you like more things than engines and exercise," she teased, just a little. It was hard, not giving herself away with her voice, but she thought she managed. Now, again, was not the time.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 28 Hamis, 2720
Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

More things than exercise and engines, Aurelie said, and he thought he could hear her smiling. Her thumb was stroking over his cheek again, slow and soft and even, and her fingers were curled through his, settled tight against them, holding his hand hand curled close to hers. A little more water dripped on to his face, and he blinked it free from his lashes.

Aremu nodded, and grunted; he settled his head back against her legs once more, breathing shallowly through his nose, his shoulders trembling. It was a moment before he could think enough to remember where they were, what she had asked of him. “Cooking,” he pointed out, looking back up at the hazy shape of Aurelie’s face once more.

His thumb had stopped moving against her hand. He thought he should think better of it, but he couldn’t seem to; he began again, carefully, searching out more of the scars with the slow strokes of the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t always know you couldn’t feel them,” Aremu said, thoughtfully.

He shifted again, taking a deep breath. “I like cooking,” he offered. “I didn’t as.. not until after I graduated. I had a room in a boarding house in Three Flowers. Meals weren’t included; they didn’t want me to...”

Aremu shifted, breathing slowly in and out. “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured. He sighed. “I had a little cook stove and a couple pots, one knife. I ate at restaurants and cook shops, and I did what I could to... I made flatbreads and eggs, mostly, with chilis, tomatoes, cumin, salt and pepper,” his voice was warm and a little soft.

“I ate a lot of eggs,” Aremu said, ruefully. “I tried other things too - greens and lentils and... it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t know the way to do things so I just did them; I tried to put the pieces together..”

“On the island, Ahura would cook for us.” Aremu’s thumb settled still on Aurelie’s hand a moment, just stroking lightly back and forth now, as if having mapped it out he could trace the route he wanted.

“On the ship, we would take turns cooking,” Aremu’s voice was warmer now; he was smiling. “Niccolette was the worst, and none of us wanted to waste anything. She would make eggs which were burnt and raw at once, flecked with specks of the pan, and we would eat every bite, because we didn’t carry extra weight, even in food.”

“She got better,” Aremu murmured. “She’s a good cook, now; she doesn’t enjoy it. I like watching you cook.” Aremu smiled up at Aurelie, studying her face once more, squinting through the dim light. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured, very softly.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Afternoon | Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

He really ought to stop doing that, moving his head around so much. That couldn't possibly be good for the injury, all that moving around. Especially not the nodding. He settled back down, shoulders shaking. Aurelie tried not to assume the cause, but it was hard not to worry. There was no good explanation that she knew of.

"Cooking, that's right." Aurelie smiled, only a trace of worry in it. At some point, Aremu had stopped the way he was moving his thumb over her hand. That had been all right, but she was selfishly glad when he started doing it again. She rather liked it. She shouldn't, and she couldn't imagine it meant anything at all, but she did like it. She didn't know what he meant by that comment, and she let it go.

All of his stories, Aurelie thought in a way that was almost exasperated but mostly fond, tended to be just a little sad. He kept shifting about on her lap. It was both distracting and somewhat concerning. But he was speaking, at least, and she didn't want to interrupt him. At least if he was wiggling around on her knees, he was still conscious. So she supposed it wasn't so terrible.

It does matter, she wanted to insist. All of it matters. That wasn't the point; she thought that might be more what he meant. She tried to picture it, but she didn't know anything about Three Flowers. Her imagination was rather poor, unless it was inconvenient, so she gave it up and just listened to his voice warm as he went on.

"Eggs are good," she said, encouragingly. "I like eggs."

The more settled movement was almost worse for her heart than what he'd been doing before. The level of comfort in the motion, maybe. Like he knew where he was going, and wanted to. She liked that, too, and felt so foolish for it. But he was still talking. The ship, he said; she hadn't quite heard him talk about it like this that she could remember. Past tense, she thought. Past tense.

Still, she laughed at the description of Niccolette's cooking. She could imagine that, now that she had met her. Or at least put a face to the eggs; she still couldn't imagine the woman she had met actually cooking very much. The circumstances of their meeting were not, perhaps, the most conducive to such imaginings.

I like watching you cook. And then he turned his face up to look at her, again. She could see him smiling through the little bit of light that came in through the cracks in the stone. Not much, but it was enough. That really had been a mistake; he had a very handsome face, and he was saying the strangest things with it. Aurelie blushed, again, more furiously somehow than she had been before. That she could be flustered still by anything was almost miraculous, when she had his head cradled on her lap and was quite shamelessly continuing to touch his face and hold his hand.

"Y-you do? It's... Oh. Ah. Er. Hmm. I don't know about bea—ahem." Aurelie's breath caught; she didn't know how to respond. He could not, she reminded herself, mean that in the way she wanted to take it. That just... wasn't possible. "I like it, too. Er. Not watching me cook, I don't do... that. Obviously. Er. I meant, I like... when you cook, too. Er. Watching, or. I mean to say. The rest of it too, just. Ah. Hmm." Soon it wouldn't matter if the storm stopped, because she would choke to death on her own idiocy, or her heart would explode.

"You're not uncomfortable, are you?" Aurelie changed the topic, not sure how much more of that her nerves could bear when he didn't mean anything by it. And she was concerned. He really was moving around rather a lot. Perhaps having his head on her lap was uncomfortable, or she should move in some way.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 28 Hamis, 2720
Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

Aurelie had laughed a little while ago, and it had made him smile. Her hand was still on his cheek, slowly stroking it, and her other hand tangled with his. He thought in a moment of clarity he shouldn’t touch her so, but she didn’t seem to mind. It was oddly comforting, the rhythm of stroking her, finding the same bumps and nicks and bones each time. They always surprised him, just a little.

Her response to his comment was a flurry of words, and he could pick out very few of them. I like when you cook, he thought she had said. He was smiling, now, once more, settled against her.

The waves were crashing at the entrance to the cave still; a hard one hit, and a little spray misted against them. Aremu thought of turning to look; he grimaced, trying to think where they were on the slope, and whether it was far enough up.

How long has he been out? It couldn’t have been more than a few moments. For a moment - just a moment - he could actually think.

“Yes,” Aremu said, when Aurelie asked if he was comfortable, and he smiled up at her, as best as he could. “My head hurts a bit, that’s all. What about you?” His thumb stroked her hand a little more.

It wasn’t, he told himself, quite a lie. He didn’t think so. His head throbbed; it ached, though he felt clearer than he had before, as if he had snatched a moment or two of clarity. Use it, he told himself; use it, you idiot.

It still felt very much like someone had kicked him in the head, although at least it didn’t still feel like anyone was continuing to do so. Her hand had paused on his cheek a little in the space between the question, but the rhythm of her fingers kept up when he answered.

Had the tide been coming in or going on? Aremu closed his eyes and tried to think; his head pounded, aching fiercely. It was high; he had known that from the level of the water against the cliff. But in or out? If it was in, he thought uneasily, they were very close to the high water mark.

He couldn’t remember.

Aremu grunted a little, opening his eyes and looking up at Aurelie. “We need to move further in, Aurelie,” he said, quietly. Another wave broke at the entrance and splattered them again, wet droplets this time. “I think the tide is rising.”

Aremu shifted, curled against her lap. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think how to do this. He didn’t think; he drew Aurelie’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, then let go.

Aremu set his hand against the rock, and pressed down firmly, digging his fingers in. Don’t frighten her, he told himself, don’t -

Aremu eased himself off Aurelie’s lap. His right elbow joined his left hand on the ground. He clenched his jaw to keep silent, waves of pain sending nausea through him, although it wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier. It wasn’t, he thought.

Aremu crawled, once, twice, a third time, until he reached the spot he knew where the cave flattened out a bit, where the waves wouldn’t touch them. He surrendered, there; he half dropped back down, lying face down on the rocky ground, every bit of him shaking with the force of his exertion, his breath coming shakily through clenched teeth.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Afternoon | Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

So he was comfortable; good. Aurelie thought she probably shouldn't be, and that he likely wouldn't be either if not for the matter of the head trauma. But she was, even with her pulse too high and her nerves far too aware of Aremu's thumb across the back of her hand. She was hopeless, utterly. "Good," she said simply, "and I am."

Relatively, anyway. As comfortable as one could be, sitting on the rocky floor of a cave in wet clothing with a man's head in one's lap. That last part was uncomfortable in a different way than the other two, and mostly by virtue, of course, of how she shouldn't indulge herself so. That wasn't really the question, she thought, so she didn't bother to point that out.

She let a little silence lapse. Surely that was all right, if he kept... Kept moving his thumb like that. That meant he was awake, didn't it? That was the part that mattered. Talking was a means to an end. She was fairly certain. Now that she thought about it, she was less sure than she had been before. But when he'd said his head hurt, and asked if she was comfortable, his voice had sounded at least a little better, a little more clear. That was good. She was fairly certain it was. Wasn't it? Yes.

Aurelie looked towards the entrance when Aremu spoke again. The tide was rising. She should have pulled them further in. That she didn't think she could have didn't matter; she should have tried. Focused more on that, and less on... Less on other, sillier things. "I think you're right," she agreed, guilty.

How could she help? She didn't think his head hurt only a bit, no matter what he said. It had bled quite a lot, from what she could tell. And she remembered his shoulder, and him writing to her anyway. The train of her thought was interrupted a little when he curled against her lap; it derailed entirely when he kissed the back of her hand and let it go.

Well now she was absolutely certain that his head must hurt a good deal more than "a bit". There was, quite simply, no other reason to have... Well, other reasons, but. None that made any sense. Aurelie was starting to think she had not, after all, imagined that touch of pressure on her forehead before they had gone under the water. And she couldn't think of any sensible reason to have done either thing. The wheels of her mind kept spinning, working to try to find any answer that made sense. They found nothing.

She had gotten too distracted; Aremu pushed himself up off her lap and crawled away. "Oh, wait, let me—" Idiot girl! She had let her mind wander, and look what happened! She didn't really know that had been such a good idea, not when she could have helped. Maybe helped. At the very least, done something. He only made it a short distance away before he collapsed back onto the ground, face pressed into the rock.

Aurelie scrambled after him. The cave flattened out a bit here, and seemed much more dry. Aurelie wasn't sure that dryness mattered, considering they would have to swim back out later—a prospect she was trying very hard not to think about—but it certainly meant the tide didn't rise this high. And she couldn't help but feel like a little bit of chance to dry out might be pleasant. She reached out to touch Aremu's shoulder, her face pinched in worry.

"Are you all right? I would have helped you, silly." She was caught between scolding and gentleness; she leaned more to the latter. It certainly seemed more useful. "Here, er. That can't be comfortable. You can... you can lean on me again, if you want to. You don't have to, I mean, I just thought, er. Oh bells and chimes." Aurelie put a hand on his head, cautiously, squinting in the gloom.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 28 Hamis, 2720
Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

Aremu started at the touch of Aurelie’s hand on his shoulder, jerking a little against the stone floor. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice aching in his throat. He took a deep breath, shifting, and then gave it up as a wave of nausea and headache rolled over him. He closed his eyes again, his forehead resting against the ground once more.

Aurelie’s hand shifted; he felt her fingers on his head, gingerly. It didn’t hurt, not just there; it was the headache that was worse, Aremu thought, with what little focus he had. There was a sharp pain on his head, and – now that he was thinking about it – along his shoulder, over his back. The headache and the nausea were the real trouble, though; he didn’t think much of the rest.

Aurelie was chattering on still. Bell and chimes, she’d said.

Aremu smiled a little. It was, in fact, surprisingly comfortable, at least relatively speaking – he thought maybe it was the lack of movement. It wasn’t as comfortable as Aurelie’s lap had been. He knew better; he knew better. He’d known better before, and he knew better now, if he just thought. His head hurt, though, and Aurelie was right there, offering, her hand curled softly against his head.

“Yes,” Aremu said, quietly. “Please,” he added.

It wasn’t necessarily easy; he didn’t throw up on her, and if his pledge to himself to be silent was one he broke, then at least he couldn’t quite bring himself to ache too badly for it. A few shifts, grunts, and half-swallowed breaths later, and Aremu’s head was curled in Aurelie’s lap once more. He sighed, very softly, closing his eyes again; he was more aware of it – of her – this time, and he felt the pounding of his heart in her chest, stronger than it should have been.

Had he kissed her hand? He wasn’t sure; he couldn’t seem to tell whether he’d done it, or only thought about it. He’d wanted to; he knew that.

He must not have scared her – perhaps he hadn’t done it after all – because her fingers were curled through his once more. Aremu smiled, breathing a little more evenly. His thumb settled on the back of her hand once more, and he found the same path he had before, tracing it slowly and steadily back and forth.

“Thank you,” Aremu said, softly. His eyes closed again, letting the soft gleam of light on Aurelie’s wet clothing slip away; his breathing evened out, too. He felt tired, in fact – very tired – and comfortable. He didn’t sleep, though; he knew he didn’t, because Aurelie’s hand was in his, and the pad of his thumb was winding its slow path back and forth across it, and he didn’t want to stop.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Afternoon | Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

He didn't seem fine, and Aurelie frowned when he said he was. She supposed it wasn't a lie, precisely, depending on where you were drawing that line. "Fine" did not communicate a volume of information. Aurelie knew, too, that Aremu considered himself a liar—and also that he didn't, as far as she knew, actually lie enough to earn the title. He was overall a strange man, she thought.

Eventually, he said yes to leaning on her rather than the stone of the floor. It shouldn't have made her so pleased, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself from feeling so. She just wanted to be helpful, that was all. That was most of it. That should be most of it. She really didn't think lying on the stone was a good idea.

The shifting was a difficult and seemingly agonizing process. Aremu's breathing was labored, and his movement too. Aurelie tried to make it as easy as she could, offering the support of her hands as well as her lap. The kiss on the back of her hand, whatever it had meant, had the unfortunate result of making her aware of every point of contact between them both when he settled again. She didn't move, or change any of them.

She, in fact, made it worse by taking his hand again; it had been comforting to them both. She hoped so, anyway, and she thought she was right when his thumb resumed the same path it had taken before. Aurelie didn't think she'd be able to think of that scar in quite the same way.

"Of course," she responded, just as soft. Anything, she almost promised, but she caught it in her teeth. That meant very little from her; she hadn't much to give. Better not to say it at all. She could let him stay there in quiet at least, watching the faint cracks of light pick out patches of wet skin and clothing. As long as he kept up the motion of his thumb on her hand, she thought that was good enough. He had to be tired; talking too much would only make that worse.

Aurelie was tired herself. She let her hand curl softly on top of his head, careful to avoid anywhere she thought might be sore. Aremu's thumb kept up that steady rhythm, and she thought—she could close her eyes, just for a moment. There was nothing much to see, anyway, and they hurt from all the saltwater. Just a moment.

They opened again. How long had they been closed? She thought just a second, but fear was twisting in her stomach. Had it been longer? Well, it didn't matter, as long as... Aremu's thumb had stilled, and his breathing was pained, but even. Any other time, she might have been relieved; now it sent a spike of panic through her, too strong for her to squash down again.

"Aremu? Aremu, are you asleep? You have to— You can't sleep now, okay? You have to wake up, I..." Went to sleep and never woke back up again. Aurelie thought of it again, and she didn't know what to do. He was still breathing, of course, but for how long? Had she made a mistake—how long had her eyes been closed? The fear clawed at her, guilt close on its heels. She moved her hand from the comfortable curl at the top of his head to his shoulder, shaking it less gently than she intended.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 28 Hamis, 2720
Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

Aremu’s eyes were closed; Aurelie’s lap was soft beneath him, and his thumb traced, slowly, back and forth, the downy skin on the back of her hand, finding the edges of her scar beneath it, just barely hard enough to feel the veins beneath the surface, and the lines of the bones that crossed his path.

Like this, Aremu found himself almost peaceful. The crash of the waves and the pounding of the storm were distant; they were no more than noise. Even the pounding in his head seemed lessened by it, by lying still and comfortable.

He didn’t know he had drifted off to sleep until he woke; if he dreamed, he knew nothing of it. There was only the dark, and the soft distant crashing of the waves, and the even rhythm of Aurelie’s breath above him, and the comfortable warmth of her lap.

Aremu!

Aurelie’s voice was a panicked shout; her hand came off of his head and caught his shoulder and shook him, roughly.

Aremu grunted, shifting; their hands pulled apart, and he squinted up at him. Her eyes were wide, bright and white in the light that crept into the cave, and he thought she looked afraid. It sent something through him, a sharp spike of panic. For a moment he thought something had happened – he couldn’t think what – he couldn’t, Aremu thought, with a pulse of irritation, think at all.

“Aurelie?” Aremu hauled himself upright without stopping to think. He grunted at the pounding of his head, and eased his back and shoulders back against the rock wall at the top of the cavern. It hurt, but not nearly as badly as it had earlier, and the world was not spinning so badly that he could not find Aurelie, who didn’t seem – it had to be said – especially pleased.

Aremu wrapped his left arm around her, competently, and pulled her close into his chest. She smelled like salt water and still, somehow, just a little, like Aurelie; he didn’t quite know what to make of it. His hand rubbed her upper arm, gently, and he thought maybe she relaxed, just a little, against him.

Of course she was upset, he thought; of course she was frightened. She’d never been in the cave before; she didn’t know that they’d be able to wait out the high tide here, well enough, and the storm too. Of course it had scared her; she’d never seen the water stormy and high like that. He should have – he felt an ache of guilt twisting in the pit of his stomach, thinking of how selfish he had been. His head throbbed.

“It’s going to be all right,” Aremu murmured. “We just have to wait out the storm. Don’t worry,” he closed his eyes again, sighing a little, easing back against the wall. He rested his head back, slowly and gingerly, and found it more comfortable than he had expected. He was still very tired; he had the oddest feeling that he might still be asleep, though he didn’t think so. The guilt felt like wakefulness, at least.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Afternoon | Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

Aurelie's imagination was only good at the worst of times. She had thought that before, and she was reminded of it now. It was easy, before she shook his shoulder, that Aremu's eyes would stay closed. That his breathing would still, because she had missed something. Because she had fallen asleep, or not known the right thing to do. That she would be quite possibly trapped in here and unable to get back out without Aremu's help didn't cross her mind. She wasn't afraid of that. Only that Aremu wouldn't be leaving here either.

He grunted, and his hand slipped from hers. Aurelie sighed with relief, though her grip on his shoulder didn't ease. Her eyes were still wide; her heart hadn't quite settled down. He sat up suddenly, and just as suddenly pulled her close. She didn't even have spare thought to be surprised, or to think that he shouldn't do such a thing. She took in a deep, shuddering breath that raised her small shoulders. On the exhale, she let herself collapse more against him, reassured by the rise and fall of his chest.

Blessed Lady, she was just so relieved. Perhaps there was no reason to have worried, she didn't really know. His hand was running up and down on her arm, and that settled her even more. He was fine. No worse off at least than he had been before. Warm and solid beneath her, arm around her. Aurelie had all kinds of absurd urges she ignored; sensible ones, too, and she ignored those as well.

His voice came from somewhere above her head, and she thought she felt him settle backwards against the wall. Aurelie thought she should pull away now, but she hadn't the strength to. That spike of panic had taken the last of it out of her. "You woke up," she mumbled. "Gracious Lady, I was so worried."

As she calmed down, she at least thought to feel somewhat silly. There was no reason to think he wouldn't, honestly. Just that lingering irrational fear, kicked higher by her own guilt for having fallen asleep. Aurelie didn't straighten up or move away. If anything, she settled herself a little more comfortably. One hand came to bunch in the damp linen of his shirt. Blessed Lady. Gracious Lady. She was just so, so grateful.

"I'm sorry I made you get up," she added after a minute, frowning. "Is... Is your head all right...?" She tilted her face up to look at him, worry still written in the red lines of her eyebrows. Her hand let go of his shirt then, reaching for his face. She hesitated just a moment, and then settled her palm against the line of his jaw. She couldn't seem to stop herself.