[ She is in his arms before she fully sinks to the floor, held close and dear with a hand cradling the back of her head, the other supporting her hips, her legs, as her chin rests atop his shoulder. Her hair is damp with sweat, he notes, as his fingers smooth over the locks in the very same shade as his own, and her heartbeat is a palpable thing as it reverberates through him, her chest pressed to his own as he walks forward in slow, even strides befitting of a King who carries with him something precious.
...someone like a sibling, a little sister, and it is no wonder that some believe the relation to be true when their habits so closely mirror each other's own. She is given to immersing herself in her training, waking before the light in order to use the day to its fullest extent, to test her limits and to break them. For this very same reason, he does not take his rest, given as he is to exploring this realm and its practice of magic, and yet...
How he wished she would take care to mind herself, so that she did not collapse in the corridor just outside the dormitory. Mana bonds bloom fast between them, the exchange warming their embrace, and Sion cannot help but take note of her bruises, the exhaustion which is written in the delicate lines of her body.
Still, he turns his head, presses his nose to her hair as he speaks gently: ]
You worked hard today.
[ ...no, he cannot scold her, for doing what he has done so many times before. But surely, he can carry her to their shared quarters and tend to her there, healing the scrapes of her palms and more. It will not be the first time he's mended her, and it will not be the last—in this way, among others, they are tethered. Held fast. And there are times (now, for example) when he wonders what she must think of him, a perfect stranger met once upon a dream turned a caretaker, of sorts. ]
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...someone like a sibling, a little sister, and it is no wonder that some believe the relation to be true when their habits so closely mirror each other's own. She is given to immersing herself in her training, waking before the light in order to use the day to its fullest extent, to test her limits and to break them. For this very same reason, he does not take his rest, given as he is to exploring this realm and its practice of magic, and yet...
How he wished she would take care to mind herself, so that she did not collapse in the corridor just outside the dormitory. Mana bonds bloom fast between them, the exchange warming their embrace, and Sion cannot help but take note of her bruises, the exhaustion which is written in the delicate lines of her body.
Still, he turns his head, presses his nose to her hair as he speaks gently: ]
You worked hard today.
[ ...no, he cannot scold her, for doing what he has done so many times before. But surely, he can carry her to their shared quarters and tend to her there, healing the scrapes of her palms and more. It will not be the first time he's mended her, and it will not be the last—in this way, among others, they are tethered. Held fast. And there are times (now, for example) when he wonders what she must think of him, a perfect stranger met once upon a dream turned a caretaker, of sorts. ]