[ Another fall, destined to end so very unlike the first. She collapses, toppling forward, but where she should have landed, the sand and gravel of the beach beneath her palms, she meets instead with the well-worn material of the King's uniform, the warmth of his chest, an arm supporting her shoulders...
And a hand, devastatingly gentle, cradling the back of her head. ]
In time, Alice.
[ In time, she will stand, and in time, her daydreams (as she had called them on that morning of too long ago, when he'd shaken her, startled her with his observation) will ebb. But for now, she needs only to rest again him, and perhaps she hasn't the energy to do much more than that. So profound a spell, so complete a magic, has no doubt exhausted her mana reserves, leaving her as she is now: propped against him, held safe and sound (close and dear) within his embrace for the third time.
She will recoil from him when she's summoned the will (of course, it is only to be expected), and she will be furious (again, she is always furious with him), but at the very least, she will be well. She will be grounded, and able to hurl her anger at him by way of a quick tongue and vehement expression, and he will only smile brightly at her for it. ]
The illusion has gone—
[ He pronounces, after drawing back his wings, the light vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared, and in its wake there is only the distant sound of their comrades, immersed yet in training. There is the clash! and clang! of weaponry, the sear of offensive magic cutting through the air, and then closer to her, there is a murmur of incantation upon Sion's lips (what I seek is sanctuary), one which the earth beneath them seems to answer to.
Called forth from world itself, mana gives life to a sprawling iridescent seal which takes its form upon the sand, its magic bringing with it a slow renewal of energy, the mending of all wounds (both the tangible and the not-so). Vertigo is banished, an imagination run amok calmed, and slowly but surely, strength is returned, leaving Sion to count down the moments until Alice should flee from him, freeing herself of his arms. ]
—I cannot pretend to know what it is I saw, but Alice...
[ Relief washes over him, tangible through mana exchange; their link formed by embrace. Relief (for her safety, that she hadn't burned herself down to ashes along with her spell), and swift at it's heels, compassion, empathy, and a pervasive sentiment that all will be well; that everything will be all right. ]
It is not so dark that you cannot escape from it. Nothing is.
no subject
And a hand, devastatingly gentle, cradling the back of her head. ]
In time, Alice.
[ In time, she will stand, and in time, her daydreams (as she had called them on that morning of too long ago, when he'd shaken her, startled her with his observation) will ebb. But for now, she needs only to rest again him, and perhaps she hasn't the energy to do much more than that. So profound a spell, so complete a magic, has no doubt exhausted her mana reserves, leaving her as she is now: propped against him, held safe and sound (close and dear) within his embrace for the third time.
She will recoil from him when she's summoned the will (of course, it is only to be expected), and she will be furious (again, she is always furious with him), but at the very least, she will be well. She will be grounded, and able to hurl her anger at him by way of a quick tongue and vehement expression, and he will only smile brightly at her for it. ]
The illusion has gone—
[ He pronounces, after drawing back his wings, the light vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared, and in its wake there is only the distant sound of their comrades, immersed yet in training. There is the clash! and clang! of weaponry, the sear of offensive magic cutting through the air, and then closer to her, there is a murmur of incantation upon Sion's lips (what I seek is sanctuary), one which the earth beneath them seems to answer to.
Called forth from world itself, mana gives life to a sprawling iridescent seal which takes its form upon the sand, its magic bringing with it a slow renewal of energy, the mending of all wounds (both the tangible and the not-so). Vertigo is banished, an imagination run amok calmed, and slowly but surely, strength is returned, leaving Sion to count down the moments until Alice should flee from him, freeing herself of his arms. ]
—I cannot pretend to know what it is I saw, but Alice...
[ Relief washes over him, tangible through mana exchange; their link formed by embrace. Relief (for her safety, that she hadn't burned herself down to ashes along with her spell), and swift at it's heels, compassion, empathy, and a pervasive sentiment that all will be well; that everything will be all right. ]
It is not so dark that you cannot escape from it. Nothing is.