Hayame frowns at him, but when it comes to saying anything else... She is somewhat stymied. One of the advantages(?) to never having had bonds as she did now was that... She did not know how to argue without going scorched earth. Was that enough to express her displeasure? She did not accept his apology in words to be extra stern, but...
She supposed she could see how he might consider that fulfilling his promise.]
... Good.
[... Admittedly, Set had told her the same, and still continued to blindside her, but.
She takes a sullen sip of her tea, draining the cup.]
And... on the off chance there's anything you want to do for me, you can always talk to me first, too. Then we'll be a real team, right? Partners who work together, not against each other.
[Even if he made it clear there's nothing he wants or expects from her, maybe an arragement like that will help her feel more like they're on an even footing, and not like she owes him anything.
He returns to petting her mane in slow, gentle touches.]
Hayame's lips purse in thought as if mulling over the proposition, tipping her head slightly to the side and sending her heavy bun of hair shifting likewise. She does him the service of attempting to imagine it, but she does not imagine she will leap to defend him in public... mainly because he can fight his own battles. (Secondarily... because he does not have nearly as many enemies as she does, it seems.) But... if she were to do it, she would naturally inform him first, she thinks, so as not to be a hypocrite, so-]
... I can acknowledge that.
[Her cup is empty, but she does not particularly want to drink more. Instead, she holds the empty cup to give her fingers something to do as the expression on her face drains from stern back to something more abashed. She lapses into silence, but... that silence is kept imperfect by the sound of her tail swishing across his sheets in time with the slow, calming strokes of his fingers through her vestigial mane.]
All right. [He says softly. He's quiet as he enjoys the peaceable silence, the gentle swish of her tail, the soft mane under his fingers. Maybe he should try this more often when she's angry with him...? It seems to have a soothing effect, at any rate.
After a time, though, he offers to take her cup.]
Ready to hit the hay for the evening? Or... not hit the hay, for once.
[Hayame does not mind silence, usually. She is used to it far more than she is to talking, at any rate, because all her life she had never been encouraged to speak. Jinba were meant to be seen and not heard, to simply be obedient without protest. Even now that she has the right to speak, and uses it what she considers liberally... silence was more familiar. But this silence is...
Or maybe that's just because he is stroking his fingers through her mane, and it feels good, and distracting...
But little can distract her from the finality of that question.]
... Yes. I prefer to retire early.
[Early to bed, early to rise, and all that, but. As she surrenders her cup, and moves to begin undoing the outer layer of her robe...]
- I cannot lay on my side the whole night.
[She did not know if wyverns were the same, or he was familiar with horses in that way, but in a similar fashion... she was simply too heavy to lay down for more than a few hours without risking suffocating under her own body weight. She doesn't want to ask and compare herself to an animal, though, so she does not say it.]
[Claude takes the cup and sets it on the table. As an early riser, too, there's no protest from him, so it seems they have another instance where their preferences align.]
Gotcha. Just shove me around if I don't wake up right away, I don't mind.
[He can be a heavy sleeper, and he imagines she'd have no qualms abound just... pushing him to the floor so she can roll around, or something. He unfastens his earring and removes it, then starts on his shirt next.]
[Just shove him around... She tsks under her breath, mostly to herself, and mostly just to try and prevent herself from saying something that might embarrass herself. Because she is... preparing to go to bed with a man who has claimed to love her, and she may have managed things in the depths of heat but that...
That was an entirely different thing. Watching someone intentionally undress, intentionally doing it herself... The flush comes back to her skin, even more obvious when she shrugs out of her outer robe and folds it, laying it to the side and leaving only the thin black layer and her bindings, which she reaches into her clothing to loosen slightly for comfort.]
I am not going to shove you...
[Is what she finally goes with, beginning to shift over to one side of the mattress with a few awkward kicks.
She does not mean to, but. She does peek over at him as he undresses.]
Why not? Might be cathartic to be a little rough with me. [If there was any doubt as to whether the suggestiveness of that sentence was intentional, it becomes clear when he catches her peeking and flashes her a wink. He shrugs off his shirt and leaves it next to the bed, but he does at least spare her by not undressing all the way.
One thing at a time, like everything else in this relationship.]
[- She wasn't looking! She wasn't. So she can't react to that stupid, foolish winking that he does, behind flushing darker and averting her gaze more obviously. (Should she be looking? He might want her to, but-)]
There are plenty of people I would rather abuse before you.
[... Is that a compliment? She doesn't even know, so she moves to manhandle the sheets into place instead, awkwardly shifting her heavier shape, clumsier when lying down, to try and get under them.]
Wow, I'm honoured... I think. [He laughs at the absurdity of the statement, and helps tug the sheets so she can pull them over herself. Once she's at least a little of the ways there, he moves to turn off the lights. It's never truly dark in Springstar, and even now, the light peeks through the edges of the blinds, faintly illuminating the room once their eyes adjust, but it's something like sunset outside enough to almost feel like it could turn to night.]
Good night, then.
[He says it quietly, slipping under the sheets beside her.]
[He should be honored... She thinks. She doesn't mind his laughter if it is over something like that. And the sheets, well. The help is... helpful. And with the lights off and the room at least dim... she feels more comfortable thinking that he won't be able to easily see how red her face was.]
... Good night, Khalid.
[Just like in the wake of the Blight, initially... she offers him only her back. Even like that, though... it is hard for her to fall asleep. He is close, and he is warm, and she is not used to sleeping beside others. She feels like she can sense his heartbeat- or that he could feel hers, pounding in twin pulse. But eventually... eventually she does manage to relax enough for her breathing to even out, drifting into the light, uneasy sleep she was accustomed to, always ready for some sort of attack or disturbance.
True to her warning, though... it is only a few hours later that her breathing begins to grow slightly labored, enough to rouse her from sleep in the night. Carefully, she props her upper half on her elbows and then her hands, looking over at the sleeping man beside her. ... He looked peaceful (and somewhat handsome), nestled into the pillow. She didn't want to disturb him, but...]
I'm going to move...
[She murmurs it into the air between them as an apology before she begins the ponderous process of rolling over, trying not to tangle her long legs in the sheets and not kick him with a hoof.]
[Claude, too, would be a light sleeper back home, living in a world of constant threat of assassination as he has. In Kenos he can rest easier, though, doubly so when he's next to someone he can trust, and so he's breathing evenly where he sleeps, completely disarmed, even from the usual smile he has fixed in place. At some point in the night, one hand has moved to rest lightly on her withers, as if recalling where he'd touched her vestigial mane not long before.
When she speaks quietly and begins to move, though, he lets out a quiet 'mmm?' and looks like he might wake up...
Only to roll over as she does, and go straight back to sleep. It... might give her more room to not kick him, at least?]
Hayame thinks she is glad for that, at first, because honestly... it is not very dignified, a jinba trying to roll over on a flat surface. Unlike a horse, she has human hands to assist, to brace and push off, but still... she grunts a bit as she shifts, pulling her legs in tight to her body to keep from kicking him along the way. Once she succeeds she could just lay back down fully, but...
She finds that she has paused once more, propped up on an elbow and just... looking at him, her hearts lodged somewhere in her throat. Pretending to have a reason not to just fall back asleep herself, she carefully fixes the sheets... but her eyes keep returning to his face. She finds herself leaning closer, closer... until the tip of her nose just begins to brush his dark hair and she can inhale softly, taking in his scent alone in the dark. ... He smelled good.
If she... If she were going to accept what he'd said to her in Alenroux, if she were going to believe it...]
... Are you asleep... ?
[The whisper ghosts over the shell of his ear as she hesitantly moves even closer, enough that she can nuzzle gently into his hair, a foreleg cautiously uncurling and dragging along his side.]
[Claude tends to carry a faint smell of warm spices and citrus, with leather notes, likely from the riding gear he's often seen in. He's still asleep, too, at least until her voice and breath tickle against the sensitive skin of his ear, and he cracks a green eye open. She feels... warm where she nuzzles him, drags her leg against his side, and it suffuses him with a soft, contented feeling that could send him right back to sleep again. He doesn't, though, at least not yet.]
You okay? [He says, drowsy, one hand drifting under the sheets to touch her foreleg.]
[... He just touches her foreleg without hesitance, as easily as if he were touching a human woman's limb. It makes her... feel something, something grateful and confused and resentful and hopeful all at once. And it makes her fetlock curl, hoof following to rub against his thigh.]
... are you?
[Her voice remains a whisper, as if afraid she might disturb something or become unable to do more if the quiet was broken. The unfamiliar scent of spice and the sharp notes of citrus linger where she nuzzled, and she finds herself... doing it again, this time lingering longer in her inhale. Maybe later he'll think he was dreaming.]
I'm not too hot... ?
[... She genuinely means. Temperature. Jinba body heats ran higher than humans. What if it was uncomfortable to sleep beside... ?]
[His hand finds her hoof, and he's to sleepy to tease her, if he'd be inclined to do it in a waking moment, for her show of intimacy, the way she nuzzles her face in his hair.
Besides, it's midwinter in Springstar, so while it never gets cold here, it's milder than usual. Hayame's presence is a buffer against it.]
[She cannot feel his hand when it leaves her hide for hoof, the sensation dull, but she can somewhat sense the weight, the pressure. It gives her the courage to slowly settle her upper half back into the mattress... and to just as slowly press herself against his body from behind, like he had that Blight-alleviated morning. But instead of pressing her forehead between his shoulders, she hesitates... and then nuzzles her way against the curve of his neck, her breath shallow and nervous on his skin.
Perfect. It sounded so normal... like this was normal, like they weren't a jinba and a human, like she knew how she felt, like-]
... That's good... I'm glad...
[Her hands creep curiously across the mattress until they find him, arms winnowing around his sides and fingers splaying over his chest. From there... from there- Her cheeks grow warmer, her breathing a bit more uneven, before she tips her head just enough into his neck that her lips can press in something like a kiss.]
[Her nervous breath against his skin, her arms around him, against the bare skin of his chest... He feels as if he's being enveloped in Hayame's warmth. His eyes, half-lidded, drift closed again at the light press of lips to his neck, close to where his golden shard sits at his nape.
The shard she had treated so tenderly before, the moment that tipped him into the realisation that his feelings for her ran much deeper and fiercer than allies, friends. And now, in this moment, he wonders if he can dare to believe, in her arms, that she feels the same way.
The lines that divide people... Human, jinba, everyone else... They were just illusions. Maybe she was starting to accept that, too. But he can't articulate half-asleep thoughts at this hour, so he contents himself with a few breathy syllables.]
Hayame... [He's drifting off again with a sigh. If she dares to look, there's the smallest smile of contentment on his face.]
[She had asked if her body heat was too high for him to sleep beside, but he... he's the one who feels hot to her now, burning along the lines where their skin meets. Her fingers slowly splay wider across the muscles of his chest, feeling his pulse and the rise and fall of his lungs, wondering (nervous) if he could detect how her twin heartbeats stutter from where her breasts press against his back. Like this... like this, he cannot see how conflicted she looks, how embarrassed and afraid such mundane things make her.
Fighting a monster in Alenroux would be less terrifying. Being inspected by potential buyers who stuck their fingers in her mouth and lifted her tail was almost less shameful. And yet...
In the dim light, on a mattress dragged from his bedroom, in the sleepy haze between cycles where she could pretend it was just instinct and half-hope he might think it was a dream... Hayame tries to pretend that she does believe. That she was a normal woman who knew how to be with someone who cared about her. She nuzzles further into his neck, his scent, her forelegs curling around his thighs like a second pair of arms attempting to hold him. A part of her wondered if she was brave enough to try more, but...
He sounded tired. And happy.
So she tries to go to sleep, instead of just staring at the silhouette of the side of his face in the dark.]
[Claude wakes in the early hours of the morning (he assumes; it's always hard to tell in Springstar) held close in Hayame's arms, her legs curled around him, the press of her bound breasts against his back and his warm breath against her neck. He has a hazy recollection of her moving in the night and saying something, and perhaps he had, too, but he soon fell back asleep.
Yet she hadn't panicked, or left in the night, or anything else. She had stayed with him and held him close. Held him, as if...
...He could stay like this, but perhaps if she wakes soon, she'll be embarassed, without the veil of relative darkness or sleepiness as a cover. So he extracts himself as carefully as he can out of her grip, pausing only briefly to admire her sleeping face, press a kiss to her forehead.
Then he sets about his morning routine: bathing, shaving, getting dressed, and finally, opening the blinds a little so he can arrange some cushions, sit in the gentle light of the rising sun, and carry out his daily meditation. He sits completely still, with his eyes closed, listening to little but the sound of his own breathing -- today, joined by the sound of Hayame's two sets of lungs on the other side of the room.]
[Normally, Hayame would never believe that she could sleep through the movements that she does that morning. She is accustomed to starting awake at the slightest noise, the faintest hint of movement, immediately ready to attack or go on the defense... But she has never spent the night like this. She has never slept beside someone warm, someone who made her feel... almost something like safe, in a soft mattress and clean sheets.
He is able to extract himself with only a faint bit of resistance, her forelegs twitching as they try to clutch at his thighs, but then he is free of her, and all her limbs curl half-protectively around her own body instead. In her sleep, her brow unfurrowed by the desperation and rage that tended to drive her, her lips unpursed by frustration or attempts to school her expression... She looks much younger.
It isn't until some time after the blinds have been opened that the warmth and the light begins to rouse her. Slowly she begins to stir, her tail flicking, fetlocks flexing, fingers curling in the sheets and pulling them to her chest as she nuzzles into the pillow... and eventually, her eye opens. Where is- ? No, Claude is there, sitting silently on cushions nearby on the floor, doing... Doing something?
In the silence, her cheeks begin to heat, recalling the previous night in vague impressions. What... She does not know what is the proper etiquette, how to behave now that morning has come... and for what seems to be a long time, she just watches him, hoping that something will come to her. Is he... he looks almost like a monk. His breathing is so even, his posture straight... and eventually, for lack of any better idea or inspiration, knowing she must eventually do something...]
... What are you doing?
[Her voice is muffled slightly by the pillow, her remaining eye only barely visible, peeking over the plush edge of it where her face remains half-buried.]
[When he's not doing a breathing meditation, he tends to focus on nature, on his feelings of gratitude towards it, of the sun on his face, of the sound of distant birdsong or, as with some mornings, the sound of rainfall outside. With his attention elsewhere entirely, on the scant resources of Springstar that keep the island alive, the muffled voice almost sounds faraway.
He has to tug his attention back to the room, and his eyes open slowly, like he's emerging from some great depth. It's worth being distracted, though, just to see Hayame peeking over the pillow.]
Meditating... I do it every morning. Ever tried it?
[He really had been somewhere else, hadn’t he? Curious, Hayame simply watches as he emerges from his thoughts (or… lack of thoughts?), her tail continuing to slightly betray her by swishing across the mattress. She could stretch… she should get up and compose herself…
But the bed is warm. And comfortable. And if she is here, and no one else might see her, unlike in the stables…]
Not like that.
[Before a hunt she tried to focus herself… perhaps occasionally what she attempted to do in archery training could count as a meditation, but… nothing that long or that peaceful looking. It seemed different.]
Hah! No, I'm not part of the church, even though I did live in a monastery in Fódlan for a while. This is a practice from Almyra.
[Though he can see why she'd think so. He had to do it in secret in Fódlan, since it wasn't exactly a normal part of the Church of Seiros' acts of prayer or worship. Certain people would start asking certain questions.]
I do it every morning. I probably should've remembered to tell you in advance, though, sorry.
[She'd warned him that she would need to roll over in the night because it would disturb him, but... This wasn't disturbing anyone. ... It's not bothering her. He'd looked... perhaps almost like praying, but not quite. (Though what did she know about praying? Real praying.)
If she falls silent... She will have to get out of bed. And if she gets out of bed, she will have to leave. So-]
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leicesters) wrote2022-12-06 08:26 pm
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[So... There.
Hayame frowns at him, but when it comes to saying anything else... She is somewhat stymied. One of the advantages(?) to never having had bonds as she did now was that... She did not know how to argue without going scorched earth. Was that enough to express her displeasure? She did not accept his apology in words to be extra stern, but...
She supposed she could see how he might consider that fulfilling his promise.]
... Good.
[... Admittedly, Set had told her the same, and still continued to blindside her, but.
She takes a sullen sip of her tea, draining the cup.]
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[Even if he made it clear there's nothing he wants or expects from her, maybe an arragement like that will help her feel more like they're on an even footing, and not like she owes him anything.
He returns to petting her mane in slow, gentle touches.]
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Hayame's lips purse in thought as if mulling over the proposition, tipping her head slightly to the side and sending her heavy bun of hair shifting likewise. She does him the service of attempting to imagine it, but she does not imagine she will leap to defend him in public... mainly because he can fight his own battles. (Secondarily... because he does not have nearly as many enemies as she does, it seems.) But... if she were to do it, she would naturally inform him first, she thinks, so as not to be a hypocrite, so-]
... I can acknowledge that.
[Her cup is empty, but she does not particularly want to drink more. Instead, she holds the empty cup to give her fingers something to do as the expression on her face drains from stern back to something more abashed. She lapses into silence, but... that silence is kept imperfect by the sound of her tail swishing across his sheets in time with the slow, calming strokes of his fingers through her vestigial mane.]
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After a time, though, he offers to take her cup.]
Ready to hit the hay for the evening? Or... not hit the hay, for once.
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Or maybe that's just because he is stroking his fingers through her mane, and it feels good, and distracting...
But little can distract her from the finality of that question.]
... Yes. I prefer to retire early.
[Early to bed, early to rise, and all that, but. As she surrenders her cup, and moves to begin undoing the outer layer of her robe...]
- I cannot lay on my side the whole night.
[She did not know if wyverns were the same, or he was familiar with horses in that way, but in a similar fashion... she was simply too heavy to lay down for more than a few hours without risking suffocating under her own body weight. She doesn't want to ask and compare herself to an animal, though, so she does not say it.]
I will likely disturb you at least twice.
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Gotcha. Just shove me around if I don't wake up right away, I don't mind.
[He can be a heavy sleeper, and he imagines she'd have no qualms abound just... pushing him to the floor so she can roll around, or something. He unfastens his earring and removes it, then starts on his shirt next.]
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That was an entirely different thing. Watching someone intentionally undress, intentionally doing it herself... The flush comes back to her skin, even more obvious when she shrugs out of her outer robe and folds it, laying it to the side and leaving only the thin black layer and her bindings, which she reaches into her clothing to loosen slightly for comfort.]
I am not going to shove you...
[Is what she finally goes with, beginning to shift over to one side of the mattress with a few awkward kicks.
She does not mean to, but. She does peek over at him as he undresses.]
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One thing at a time, like everything else in this relationship.]
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There are plenty of people I would rather abuse before you.
[... Is that a compliment? She doesn't even know, so she moves to manhandle the sheets into place instead, awkwardly shifting her heavier shape, clumsier when lying down, to try and get under them.]
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Good night, then.
[He says it quietly, slipping under the sheets beside her.]
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... Good night, Khalid.
[Just like in the wake of the Blight, initially... she offers him only her back. Even like that, though... it is hard for her to fall asleep. He is close, and he is warm, and she is not used to sleeping beside others. She feels like she can sense his heartbeat- or that he could feel hers, pounding in twin pulse. But eventually... eventually she does manage to relax enough for her breathing to even out, drifting into the light, uneasy sleep she was accustomed to, always ready for some sort of attack or disturbance.
True to her warning, though... it is only a few hours later that her breathing begins to grow slightly labored, enough to rouse her from sleep in the night. Carefully, she props her upper half on her elbows and then her hands, looking over at the sleeping man beside her. ... He looked peaceful (and somewhat handsome), nestled into the pillow. She didn't want to disturb him, but...]
I'm going to move...
[She murmurs it into the air between them as an apology before she begins the ponderous process of rolling over, trying not to tangle her long legs in the sheets and not kick him with a hoof.]
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When she speaks quietly and begins to move, though, he lets out a quiet 'mmm?' and looks like he might wake up...
Only to roll over as she does, and go straight back to sleep. It... might give her more room to not kick him, at least?]
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Hayame thinks she is glad for that, at first, because honestly... it is not very dignified, a jinba trying to roll over on a flat surface. Unlike a horse, she has human hands to assist, to brace and push off, but still... she grunts a bit as she shifts, pulling her legs in tight to her body to keep from kicking him along the way. Once she succeeds she could just lay back down fully, but...
She finds that she has paused once more, propped up on an elbow and just... looking at him, her hearts lodged somewhere in her throat. Pretending to have a reason not to just fall back asleep herself, she carefully fixes the sheets... but her eyes keep returning to his face. She finds herself leaning closer, closer... until the tip of her nose just begins to brush his dark hair and she can inhale softly, taking in his scent alone in the dark. ... He smelled good.
If she... If she were going to accept what he'd said to her in Alenroux, if she were going to believe it...]
... Are you asleep... ?
[The whisper ghosts over the shell of his ear as she hesitantly moves even closer, enough that she can nuzzle gently into his hair, a foreleg cautiously uncurling and dragging along his side.]
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You okay? [He says, drowsy, one hand drifting under the sheets to touch her foreleg.]
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... are you?
[Her voice remains a whisper, as if afraid she might disturb something or become unable to do more if the quiet was broken. The unfamiliar scent of spice and the sharp notes of citrus linger where she nuzzled, and she finds herself... doing it again, this time lingering longer in her inhale. Maybe later he'll think he was dreaming.]
I'm not too hot... ?
[... She genuinely means. Temperature. Jinba body heats ran higher than humans. What if it was uncomfortable to sleep beside... ?]
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[His hand finds her hoof, and he's to sleepy to tease her, if he'd be inclined to do it in a waking moment, for her show of intimacy, the way she nuzzles her face in his hair.
Besides, it's midwinter in Springstar, so while it never gets cold here, it's milder than usual. Hayame's presence is a buffer against it.]
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Perfect. It sounded so normal... like this was normal, like they weren't a jinba and a human, like she knew how she felt, like-]
... That's good... I'm glad...
[Her hands creep curiously across the mattress until they find him, arms winnowing around his sides and fingers splaying over his chest. From there... from there- Her cheeks grow warmer, her breathing a bit more uneven, before she tips her head just enough into his neck that her lips can press in something like a kiss.]
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The shard she had treated so tenderly before, the moment that tipped him into the realisation that his feelings for her ran much deeper and fiercer than allies, friends. And now, in this moment, he wonders if he can dare to believe, in her arms, that she feels the same way.
The lines that divide people... Human, jinba, everyone else... They were just illusions. Maybe she was starting to accept that, too. But he can't articulate half-asleep thoughts at this hour, so he contents himself with a few breathy syllables.]
Hayame... [He's drifting off again with a sigh. If she dares to look, there's the smallest smile of contentment on his face.]
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Fighting a monster in Alenroux would be less terrifying. Being inspected by potential buyers who stuck their fingers in her mouth and lifted her tail was almost less shameful. And yet...
In the dim light, on a mattress dragged from his bedroom, in the sleepy haze between cycles where she could pretend it was just instinct and half-hope he might think it was a dream... Hayame tries to pretend that she does believe. That she was a normal woman who knew how to be with someone who cared about her. She nuzzles further into his neck, his scent, her forelegs curling around his thighs like a second pair of arms attempting to hold him. A part of her wondered if she was brave enough to try more, but...
He sounded tired. And happy.
So she tries to go to sleep, instead of just staring at the silhouette of the side of his face in the dark.]
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Yet she hadn't panicked, or left in the night, or anything else. She had stayed with him and held him close. Held him, as if...
...He could stay like this, but perhaps if she wakes soon, she'll be embarassed, without the veil of relative darkness or sleepiness as a cover. So he extracts himself as carefully as he can out of her grip, pausing only briefly to admire her sleeping face, press a kiss to her forehead.
Then he sets about his morning routine: bathing, shaving, getting dressed, and finally, opening the blinds a little so he can arrange some cushions, sit in the gentle light of the rising sun, and carry out his daily meditation. He sits completely still, with his eyes closed, listening to little but the sound of his own breathing -- today, joined by the sound of Hayame's two sets of lungs on the other side of the room.]
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He is able to extract himself with only a faint bit of resistance, her forelegs twitching as they try to clutch at his thighs, but then he is free of her, and all her limbs curl half-protectively around her own body instead. In her sleep, her brow unfurrowed by the desperation and rage that tended to drive her, her lips unpursed by frustration or attempts to school her expression... She looks much younger.
It isn't until some time after the blinds have been opened that the warmth and the light begins to rouse her. Slowly she begins to stir, her tail flicking, fetlocks flexing, fingers curling in the sheets and pulling them to her chest as she nuzzles into the pillow... and eventually, her eye opens. Where is- ? No, Claude is there, sitting silently on cushions nearby on the floor, doing... Doing something?
In the silence, her cheeks begin to heat, recalling the previous night in vague impressions. What... She does not know what is the proper etiquette, how to behave now that morning has come... and for what seems to be a long time, she just watches him, hoping that something will come to her. Is he... he looks almost like a monk. His breathing is so even, his posture straight... and eventually, for lack of any better idea or inspiration, knowing she must eventually do something...]
... What are you doing?
[Her voice is muffled slightly by the pillow, her remaining eye only barely visible, peeking over the plush edge of it where her face remains half-buried.]
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He has to tug his attention back to the room, and his eyes open slowly, like he's emerging from some great depth. It's worth being distracted, though, just to see Hayame peeking over the pillow.]
Meditating... I do it every morning. Ever tried it?
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But the bed is warm. And comfortable. And if she is here, and no one else might see her, unlike in the stables…]
Not like that.
[Before a hunt she tried to focus herself… perhaps occasionally what she attempted to do in archery training could count as a meditation, but… nothing that long or that peaceful looking. It seemed different.]
Are you a monk as well as a king… ?
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[Though he can see why she'd think so. He had to do it in secret in Fódlan, since it wasn't exactly a normal part of the Church of Seiros' acts of prayer or worship. Certain people would start asking certain questions.]
I do it every morning. I probably should've remembered to tell you in advance, though, sorry.
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[She'd warned him that she would need to roll over in the night because it would disturb him, but... This wasn't disturbing anyone. ... It's not bothering her. He'd looked... perhaps almost like praying, but not quite. (Though what did she know about praying? Real praying.)
If she falls silent... She will have to get out of bed. And if she gets out of bed, she will have to leave. So-]
... What do you meditate over?
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