[ Sleep, Sion doesn't need to say, one hand grasping for his cloak, readjusting it so that it might serve as a blanket for he and Tieria both, the other still very much curled into the tattered fabric of the other man's uniform, all the more reluctant to let go now that he's been pulled close. Tieria, his ward, who is so disinclined toward touch, holds him fast, anchors him here, and hasn't abandoned the hold once—the sentiment is staggering, still, as are the words you don't need to apologize and I'll have your back, and however near to slumber the King might be, his mana is resonant with gratitude, answering Tieria's will to protect with grace: ]
Always, I will mend you, guarding your back as you do mine. Do not fear me leaving so soon.
[ His head bows in what little space remains between them, the fall of his hair masking his expression: a smile which seems not to match his features, eyes which might be glassy with saline, if only they had not been closed.
(If only he were not a moment away from sleep, if only it were permissible to stumble, if only... ) ]
We will wake together... and see what it is that tomorrow brings...
[ Unable to stave off exhaustion for any longer, he succumbs to rest, stilling not on account of being encompassed by the dark, but because of the balance he's been granted in the here and now, found within the arms of someone cared for and trusted; someone who's voice will reach him, even in dreams.
(And they are dreams of a peaceful place, a gentle world somewhere amid the stars.) ]
no subject
[ Sleep, Sion doesn't need to say, one hand grasping for his cloak, readjusting it so that it might serve as a blanket for he and Tieria both, the other still very much curled into the tattered fabric of the other man's uniform, all the more reluctant to let go now that he's been pulled close. Tieria, his ward, who is so disinclined toward touch, holds him fast, anchors him here, and hasn't abandoned the hold once—the sentiment is staggering, still, as are the words you don't need to apologize and I'll have your back, and however near to slumber the King might be, his mana is resonant with gratitude, answering Tieria's will to protect with grace: ]
Always, I will mend you, guarding your back as you do mine. Do not fear me leaving so soon.
[ His head bows in what little space remains between them, the fall of his hair masking his expression: a smile which seems not to match his features, eyes which might be glassy with saline, if only they had not been closed.
(If only he were not a moment away from sleep, if only it were permissible to stumble, if only... ) ]
We will wake together... and see what it is that tomorrow brings...
[ Unable to stave off exhaustion for any longer, he succumbs to rest, stilling not on account of being encompassed by the dark, but because of the balance he's been granted in the here and now, found within the arms of someone cared for and trusted; someone who's voice will reach him, even in dreams.
(And they are dreams of a peaceful place, a gentle world somewhere amid the stars.) ]