Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-11-04 14:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul |
When life leaves you high and dry, I'll be at your door tonight...
Who: Aspel & Ari~
What: The broken bard: part 1 Taking care of the grumpiest Bard.
Where: Ari’s apartment.
When: Tonight
Rating: PG
Status: Complete.
Ari had broken her arm. Ari had broken her arm. That was all that continued to run through Aspel’s mind for the entirety of her work day. How the hell had… No, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. All the smith knew for sure was that this was the second time that Ari had gone off and gotten herself injured. This was also the second time that Aspel hadn’t been with Ari, and the bard had gotten injured. Clearly, there was a pattern that was starting to form. If this happened a third time, Aspel might just insist that any trip Ari consider in the future be one that the smith go along for to assure the other woman’s protection. Due to this concern, this… Unending frustration, and self blame after a network conversation, the smith arranged for lunch to be delivered to the Bard. From that point on, Aspel spent the rest of her day checking her communicator with a regularity befitting a network addict, and spent more thought than anyone ought planning out dinner. Additionally, Aspel could easily be caught scribbling out a list that she’d drop at the grocer’s to be delivered to the other woman the day after tomorrow. If Ari was going to be down an arm, she’d need good, healthy food easily in reach to assure a speedy, and easy recovery. Regardless of herself, and her distractions, eventually the work day would end, and as soon as the last piece of paperwork was handled, the smith was out the door. Having placed an order before she even left to assure that between the office, and Ari’s apartment, the only stop she’d need to make would be that to snag up the already prepared dinner and proper dessert, it was a short jaunt to the other woman’s house. The steps were taken two at a time, hands full of bags - okay, so maybe she’d made one or two other stops to get basic house stuff that Ari might be lacking in as she was rarely hurt (pain killers, bandages, etc) - Aspel paused. Why was she… Oddly nervous? Something in her gut had wrung itself tight with anxiety, and nerves. Sighing, the smith steeled herself, there was no reason to be nervous, it was Ari, this was nothing new. It was just the cheery little bard she’d known for years at this point. With that, Aspel knocked at the door, waiting only a second before calling out. “My apologies, I believe I may be a bit late.” Ari was bored. Bored, in pain, and just a little hung over -- when one added to this the fact that showering with a splint on her arm had been a trial and doing anything with her hair but leaving it alone and hoping for the best had been impossible, it was no surprise that this litany of states included grumpy. Her bad moods were not frequent, but this one was destined for the record books. At the very least she was not lounging about bored, hung over, in pain, et cetera, as well as hungry. The lunch Aspel had sent had saved her from having to order from downstairs just as her good hand had begun complaining (who knew typing one-handed could be this hard?), so she’d eaten and then spent the subsequent several hours dozing on her couch because no book could hold her attention, she couldn’t play anything, and even the network seemed only to remind her of her injury. The knock on the door, though, that promised to at the very least be diverting. She rose, adjusted her sling, ran her hand through her hair (she ought, she thought sullenly, just give up on that front) and padded to the door. Undoing the lock one-handed was only a bit of a trial, and she swung the door open to regard Aspel and, with some curiosity, what looked like half a dozen bags. “I barely looked at the clock,” she said; the minute hand had been crawling so painstakingly slowly that she’d forbidden herself from checking it a few hours back. “Come in,” she invited. “Did you buy out some lucky grocer?” She thought she heard the clink of glass and said, “Or perhaps, either an apothecary or a vintner. I hope it is the latter.” “Ah, then I suspect I have outed myself, no?” A slight smile pulled at the corners of the smith’s mouth despite herself. With a nod of her head, Aspel waited a moment to assure she could clear the door without bumping into Ari. The last thing any injured person needed, was to have their pain aggravated by simple accidents. “I fear you are only partially correct in your assumption.” Something a bit sheepish cropped up as the smith made her way into the kitchen and deposited the bags upon the counter. “There is the take out as I promised, as well as items from the apothecary, but no wine. Generally, it is ill advisable to drink while recovering.” A fact that Aspel was familiar with, and hated, more than she really cared to admit. “If you would like to sit while I prepare our plates, you are quite welcome to do so. It should be no trial to bring all the required items back to you. Unless you wish to observe while I compile all needed pieces.” Recovering from injury was miserable, and boring. Even watching someone else do things could help considerably with passing the time from what the smith recalled. At least company that you enjoyed could help the time go quicker, and Aspel could manage to keep up with chatting if needed. Though, she wasn’t sure she’d stay much past dinner, yet… That would be more firmly decided when the time was a bit more appropriate to do so. “Recovering is miserable,” Ari said with a grimace. “I don’t know how you do it so often without going entirely mad.” She didn’t even particularly want wine. She just wanted to not feel so discontent. She trailed Aspel into the kitchen, not because she could help, but for something to do. She spared an annoyed glance to her coffee grinder -- she’d had to make do with coffee from downstairs today, which was its own sort of misery -- before settling on one of her chairs, taking extra care to sit slowly and keep her arm away from the chair back. She winced anyway, being unaccustomed to prolonged pain in general. The white mage claimed she’d have full use of her arm back in two days with proper care, but she had her doubts. She wiggled her fingers slightly. It hurt. She made another face and turned her attention back to Aspel, who at least was unlikely to annoy her further. “Please tell me you brought something that doesn’t require a knife,” she said plaintively. “I eat poorly enough with my left hand as is, as it turns out.” Who knew using a fork could be so hard? “Books, mostly. Company when I can obtain it, and an extensive assortment of conversations and games via the network.” Really, it was the only way she’d been able to pass the time and retain any vague semblance of sanity in the past. “Sleep. I attempt to sleep as much as humanly possible while injured. It assists in passing the time much quicker.” A glance was only passively given to the other woman as Aspel obtained and began to set each plate up. The question about a knife though caused a pause in her movement. “I….. Did not.” Frowning, a glance was given to the take out containers as thoughts swirled around her head for a moment. “I can simply cut things smaller for you.” With that, food was unboxed and placed upon the plates consisting of duck, roast vegetables, salad and a light vegetable based soup. “Unless you would prefer I feed it to you myself.” The faintest hint of mischief rose, as another glance was cast back toward the bard as the food had been plated at this point. “Your choice of drink this eve?” “Never mind,” Ari said. “As long as I can stab it with a fork, I’ll do all right. Stabbing, I can do with either hand.” Daggers saw to that, and she managed those all right left-handed, even if she always led with her right. She shrugged, winced, reminded herself that shrugging was bad. “I should tell you to feed me,” she said, with a bit of her usual cheer, “but I’m afraid it might just make me feel increasingly useless as opposed to pampered, so I believe I’ll stay with stabbing, for now.” At least she had company, she reminded herself. This was already better than her afternoon had been. And the food did smell much more appetizing than something from downstairs. “There’s wine,” she said, “which you tell me is bad for me right at the moment, and water. Otherwise, your tea is in the cabinet -- you’ll forgive me if I don’t brew it for you -- along with coffee beans,” she added. “If there’s not to be wine with dinner, I suppose water will have to do.” She would likely be working again in a week or two, anyway. Might as well get accustomed to water now, she supposed… “And I’m actually terrible company at the moment,” she said with a sigh, “but thank you for coming to see me anyway, even knowing that.” It was… surprisingly comforting to know someone was willing to put up with her when she wasn’t a source of entertainment, but rather the antithesis. Mostly, on the rare occasions that she got into moods, she preferred to stay away from people until they had passed but… strangely enough, she didn’t seem to mind Aspel’s presence, and was even rather glad for it. There was a moment taken, consideration given to Ari’s words as Aspel debated how to handle them. Finally, even though she was uncertain if it was the proper end, she decided to speak her mind on the matter. “Are you certain? Cutting it up is no burden even if I am not lavishing my attention upon you with doing so.” The words hesitant, almost as if she were uncertain if she should be speaking them or not at first, but the smith had pushed forward regardless, even falling back into a sort of amused comfort that most of her conversations held. “Tea will suit fine.” Another pause as eyes absently roamed the counter. “Would you not wish for coffee with dinner this eve?” She did know how to make it after all, and even if she had troubles working Ari’s contraption for brewing, certainly, the bard would have no issue with issuing orders or directions on how to work it. Though, the last statement caused the quirking of a brow as Aspel continued to work on compiling the contents of each plate. “It is the least I can do.” How many times had Ari kept her company during the smith’s various states of injury and illness? Not that she would have needed the bard to have done that in order to be willing to deliver such company to the other woman, but…. “However, even in your current state of disarray, I do believe I would still be willing to share my time, even if for no other reason than I enjoy your company.” It was…. Striking how much Ari seemed to have wormed her way into Aspel’s life and perhaps even her... “Is there anything I can assist with this eve that would be of particular comfort or assistance outside of the current?” A nod of her head was given to the mostly assembled plates of food. “I’ll take the cutting, just not the feeding,” Ari said after some thought. “I suppose stabbing an entire duck breast and gnawing on its edges would be rather inelegant, and while I am not going to be doing much with any elegance today, you can spare me at least that much indignity.” As long as she could still feed herself, she wouldn’t really mind. “If you’re willing to make coffee, save it for after dinner,” she suggested. “It’s a bit of a process, and I’m rather hungry.” And they could retire to the couch, which was more comfortable than the kitchen chairs (which Ari almost never used) to drink it. She remembered not to shrug this time, though she had to think about it. It was a bit uncomfortable, this subject; generally, she was more than confident in her ability to hold someone’s attention and be a worthwhile use of time, but… “Disarray is one way of putting it, I suppose.” A rather kind way, in the end; in her opinion, the issue with her company tonight went quite a bit deeper than that. “As for other matters of assistance,” she said, “if you could manage to find some way to amuse me, for Faram’s sake, please do. The pain potion the white mage gave me makes my mind too fuzzy to read, and goodness knows I can’t work, or compose, or, well, anything. If I had to be clumsy, I wish I’d broken my leg instead,” she finished petulantly. “Mm.” Would be all the response Aspel really felt Ari required in regards to the cutting of her food before the smith took up fork, and knife to dismantle the duck breast a bit. Eyes remained down turned during the task regardless of how the other woman carried on, and a nod would be offered at the via point of when coffee should be made. “As you wish.” Came out absently, something that had been ingrained into Aspel with years of use. One with the last couple bits cut, did the smith finally look up once more, and now the other woman was carrying on about company and amusement. “Ah, I suspect that would depend upon what you are willing to be amused by. We could attempt a word game, I could read you a story, or a section out of whatever tome you have chosen to partake in of late.” At this point, Aspel had come to searching out an appropriate tray to carry all their dinner items back into the living room. Sitting anywhere uncomfortable while injured was just generally miserable. “We could share the many dark secrets we know of others on the network, or perhaps shall we try ‘I spy’ this eve? It may not be quite as fun when not surrounded by other lively bar patrons, but it is an option of many this eve.” A soft smile was offered, one clearly laced with caring as Aspel finally obtained a tray, piled all of their dinner items onto it and began carrying the haul back into the living room. Ari followed Aspel back to the living room, and sat carefully down in the corner of her couch (she had learned -- the hard way -- that her usual manner of flopping was basically a one-way ticket to extraordinary pain and discomfort. After a moment of thought, she pulled her plate up onto her lap, then took up the fork and after a perfunctory, “Thanks again, for the meal,” began valiantly (if somewhat awkwardly) attacking the food with it. She had to admit that having something hot to eat did make her feel better, if only slightly. “I am willing to be amused by nearly anything diverting,” she said after a moment of thought. “Though I may be too…” frustrated “muddled for a game of any sort. I’m afraid I wouldn’t give you much of a challenge tonight.” Which would, in the end, likely lead to additional frustration, which was the last thing either of them needed. “But a story -- a good story,” she qualified, “I cannot resist at any time. It does not need to come from a book, nor does it need to be true, though it is always more interesting if it turns out to be.” She smiled and added, “Dark secrets about people we know also optional, though I won’t say no to those, either.” “Of course, yet, really, no thanks are required.” It was the only appropriate thing Aspel felt she could say, could offer at the point in time in which she found herself. What else could she say to… The thought was pressed aside, Aspel beginning to pick at her own plate, clearly a bit mentally distracted. After a listening and swallowing a few bites of her meal, a low thoughtful hum slipped out, considering Ari’s request of the night. “I would wager I must know at least a few, but I suspect, if you wish for happy, sad, or other would best help determine of which kind I tell.” Thoughts drifted, there were a lot of interesting things she could recant if they were fiction or not… Well, that certainly would be another group of conversation altogether. “If you have no preference, I may have a few things in mind, if you do, I am certain I can think of others if the need does arise.” The food seemed to vanish rather quickly, considering she was stabbing at it with her left hand, but Ari supposed that recovery made one hungry. She always felt famished after walking around with Regen cast on her, now that she thought of it… “I would wager you know nearly as many stories as I do,” Ari said. Aspel’s life alone was good for dozens of tales, she was certain, both happy and sad. And the other woman did have her own particular way with words. “As for what sort of story, perhaps you ought to surprise me. Stories of all sorts hold value.” And though she preferred happy endings, she was not the sort to shy away from a tragedy or drama, either. There were many stories in the world, and all needed telling for different reasons. “Choose the story which compels you to tell it, I suppose,” she said at last. “It is certain to be engaging.” And her food, it seemed, was entirely gone; she looked down at her plate to discover it empty. “I suppose I was hungrier than I thought.” She set her plate back on the coffee table and shifted her position again. Why was everything -- even her beloved overstuffed couch -- uncomfortable? This was truly the worst injury ever. An eyebrow rose at the speed with which Ari worked through dinner. Thinking a moment, a passive comment rose. “I believe there is enough for seconds if you so desire.” Though, if she was done, then the bard would be left with food for the next day as well. Just enough to buy Aspel the time she needed to get the list to the grocery for delivery items. A few would need to be changed, after consideration for Ari’s lack of ability to cut things. “Ah, I would not go nearly that far.” A soft smile was offered, and Aspel’s brow furrowed as she noted the amount of shifting around the other woman had been doing so far this night. “Are you well?” Worry was beginning to seep in as the smith looked over Ari’s body, trying to figure out if there was anything clearly out of the norm aside from the broken arm the other woman had continued to nurse. “And what did the white mage say regarding your injury? Are you allowed additional curative measures?” If the answer was yes… Well. Aspel could help at least a little, even if it wouldn’t be much. “No,” Ari said, after a moment of thought, “I should probably stop eating.” She almost added, don’t go, which seemed petulant and pathetic even in her own head, so instead she said, “In any case, if we begin comparing just how many stories we do know, not only will we be here long after my arm has healed -- I sincerely hope -- but I will be required to think, at which I have been failing rather spectacularly today.” A sore point, that. “I would not call myself well,” she huffed. “I can’t seem to get comfortable. And the sadist -- rather, white mage -- said I could have pain potions but no additional healing until I go back to see him tomorrow, just to ensure everything is progressing properly, else I’d have tried myself. I do know Cure, if poorly. But as I’m rather attached to my range of motion, I suppose I will simply have to suffer until tomorrow morning. I might,” she added, “actually get up in the morning to go see him, that is how badly I want this ordeal to be over with.” “Then you will have food for the morrow as well.” It was a simple conclusion and Aspel perhaps wondered if she’d be best to leave some of her leftovers here as well. At the very least, before she left in the morning… Assuming she left in the morning… Aspel would need to take another ten minutes or so and assure all pieces that were a bit on the larger side were cut into appropriately bite sized pieces. The last thing Ari needed to do was have more frustration over something so stupidly simple that it would make anyone feel off. “Then consider this a win for you, I shall easily bow to your superior storytelling prowess.” The words had a slightly amused tone to them, but in the instance were quite serious. “Ah, I see.” A pause was taken. “When was your last dose of the pain potion? If it has been some time, it may assist with easing your discomfort.” At least, that had been Aspel’s experience with all of this. “I can retrieve it for you if you desire.” “Hmm,” Ari said, scrunching her nose momentarily in thought. She already had a fairly relaxed relationship with time, and now her head was fuzzy to boot. “Before my nap,” she said, “which was sometime after I gave up on the network. There’s a bottle on my nightstand, if you’re willing to get it.” And perhaps while Aspel went, she might be able to arrange herself in some manner against the cushions which would not simply contribute to her discomfort. “Certainly.” A nod was given, and Aspel carefully removed herself from the couch to assure Ari the least amount of discomfort possible in this time. Moving around the stacks of items, some books, some sheet music and Faram knew what else, it would be a short search to find the vial, and return to the couch. Pulling off the vial’s top, it was handed over to Ari before the smith sat once more, allowing the other woman to drink up before a hand carefully fell to the bard’s good shoulder. “Perhaps, if you would allow, I can help in assisting you to a more comfortable spot?” With the other woman granting permission, the most delicate of direction possible was provided until Ari had settled into a position that seemed to work best for the time. “Ah, now I have promised a story, have I not?” A low thoughtful hum was earned, seeming to consider her options for a moment. “I believe the proper start would be 'a long, long time ago, in a far, far away land', a place that could only be reached by the bravest adventurers or strongest airships from where we currently are. A location where men and wilds mixed with the forest easily upon your doorstep if one was not careful to assure the distance between the two. Our story begins with an old stone keep, a monstrously sized building with bricks and stone jutting this way and that. It clearly had housed a number of generations that had come before the point of our start, and additions had been built as time had passed, leaving the old stone almost out of place next to the more modern parts, yet they would all feel like home for the inhabitants which lived there. In the winter, which was long and bone chilling cold, the fires crackled in the fire places, and within the main family room, the hounds would lay nearby, assuring their fur would catch the warmth while they napped. A grandmother, or particularly old aunt could easily be seen sewing, and rocking away regardless of time of year. For you see, the family which lived within the walls of such a grand house, was large, and widespread among the sprawling woods and countryside for they were one of the country’s many strengths. Their tireless dedication to serve and protect assisted not only to bolster their own name, but the relations they held with people of rank both high and low. There was an understanding, an agreement within their blood, and years that their name stood for warriors, for strength, for combat and for protection in its many and varied forms.” A pause was taken, clearing her throat for a moment. “With this established, the understanding of the house and the family within it, a mix of creation and destruction, of peace and battle, of soft and hard, of warm and cold all at once, we progress to the point of one of the extended family's many daughters. A simple girl at the age of twelve, yet even at this point, her destiny had been predetermined as dictated by her parents' standards and beliefs for what a girl should be, what she should act like, how she should speak, sit, walk, behave and respond. However, this girl while obvious of her bloodline, and understanding of her place, of how it would shake the very foundation of her role and place within the house, longed for something more. Something different than the standard practices of dance, and manners. Her eyes lingered while outside upon the private training grounds of the family, to those encased in armor, to those brandishing sword and shield with an understanding that regardless of how she longed for it, or how it called it her, and no matter how out of place she were ever to feel amongst the daily routines and expected practices, that the world she longed for would never be a world of her own. Or at least, that was what she was trained to believe. Yet of course, as any adult shall know, what we are taught to believe as children, and what we are fated to do, the choices we make and paths we walk, can all end up quite different. Of course, for this girl, that was true too.” A hand shifted, carefully moving to stroke gently over Ari’s hair, and eyes cast down, watching for a moment to take in how the other woman fared. “What the world expects, and what happens, are two very different things, and it would come to pass that with each lingering glance filled with longing, and each slowed stroll past where men and boys of the family trained to hone their skills for being or becoming the protectors of today and tomorrow, the girl’s behavior would come to be noticed. To her, it would be a mystery as it was such a fleeting bit of time each day with which she was allowed to watch the practices. Surely, no one could catch on to this as her pace slowed while crossing the yard to bring something home to her mother, certainly, she had not been so obvious as she hurried out of practices with to eat fruit upon the porch while imagining what swinging a training sword would be like, or ponder at just how heavy the weighted pads would press upon one's body as they moved. However, what she thought was simple glances, something easily concealable was not lost on an uncle that regularly took up in the yards. The desire in her eyes, how she leaned and swayed with each strike, and swing, he followed, and inherently understood. With that, he moved to spend more time with her, to get to learn who she was and what she housed inside that was never expressed in words. It would not be long before this uncle would approach the young girl, a simple offer in mind. Taking her aside one day, he broached the topic carefully, trying his best not to scare the poor thing off, yet, knowing full well how she had been trained, and actually being of a mind to not agree with the tradition. For you see, the uncle, unlike many other members of the family, had ventured off into greater parts of the world, had experienced, lived and knew more than most other members could ever hope to retain. Within his travels he had had his views challenged, and ultimately changed. Most, I believe, would say for the better, yet, within the walls and halls of the family’s grounds that would be a significant matter of question. Regardless of this, regardless of knowing the change, and ramifications that could befall not only him, but her as well, he pressed forward. He reached out. This uncle offered her something she never believed possible, never knew she could even dream for. The uncle, offered this young girl a simple chance to change her supposedly predetermined destiny, to not follow the rigorously outlined adherences that she had thought were her only unfortunate options in life. However, with how strictly she had been trained, had been pushed into believing, it was almost impossible to consider something otherwise, but the uncle was a wise man. He did not push, he did not force or aggravate, he extended a simple olive branch, a time to meet, and a place. Which, if the girl were to show for this, he would give her more knowledge, and guide her through all she would need to do to change her path in life. To change the choices that others had made for her, and take charge of who she really could be. With that, he left her alone, with a choice to make and a day to decide. The girl spent ample amounts of time mulling the decision over. Would it be wrong of her if she decided to go? Yet, how could anyone pass up such a chance? Her uncle did not make offers like this likely, and he had been a well respected warrior for some time. If things did not work, if they moved in the wrong way, or she decided that all along she had been wrong, the girl could always change her mind, and of course, the uncle being a kind man, he would understand. He had to.” Taking a moment, a deep breath was sucked in. “Ultimately, she went. Upon meeting with the uncle at his forge, she was instructed to sit, and simple conversation was made. Basic talk of their respective days, and how various members of the family were. The conversation carried on for what felt to be forever before the uncle slowly broached his way into the topic she had been waiting for. The offer. The offer which she was ready to hear more about, and at least in theory, accept. However, this offer, of course, had several conditions. She would need to find time between her lessons to spend time with him, to let him teach her, and to take on the responsibility understanding that her life would not be pleasant, or easy for some time. That the work would be hard, the days would be long, and eventually, if she truly wished to go through with becoming a Knight, as many in the family had before, she may very well need to leave the keep in order to accomplish such if it would not be allowed for her to test at home. Yet, for the first time, as he walked her through these things, as he spoke of the training, the danger, and the pain, it sparked something within the girl, something that had been repressed and beaten back for so long she barely knew it to be there anymore. It set alive a spark, a sense of right, the fulfillment of a yearning so long denied, that nothing else felt as though it could be as right as accepting the terms, and agreeing to the offer that was made by her uncle upon that spot. Upon that day, her training began.” Aspel’s eyes had absently shifted up some time ago, lingering along the stacks of things that cluttered an apartment probably too small for all these belongings if one were honest. Yet, Ari made it work, and the smith couldn’t really blame her one bit. Fingers continued to stroke through the bard’s hair, and Aspel’s mouth opened, with the intention to speak again when eyes finally fell upon the other woman once again, just to realize that Ari had slipped off into the dream world. “Ah.” Came the low exclamation, with a tender smile pulling at her lips. Ari looked so peaceful like this, so calm. It was a battle within herself as Aspel attempted to weigh the pros and cons of waking the other woman. Perhaps, it would be better if she simply carried, and laid Ari to bed? Though, there would be danger of jostling her arm. A slight frown pulled at her lips, quite the conundrum at that. Shifting slightly, a decision was made. The smith would attempt it, and if Ari woke, while Aspel was careful of lifting her good side, it would make things easier, but if not, then thankfully, it was only a short move between couch and bed. Really, it should be no trouble at all. Settled in as she was halfway against Aspel’s side and with the pain potion dulling the edges of her pain (and her perception, but, well, that was the price to be paid), Ari allowed herself a small sigh as she finally relaxed. This was really unexpectedly pleasant; for all that she was not generally one for lazing about so early in the evening, right at the moment, this was the perfect distraction. And, of course, there was the story. It might have taken her slightly longer than it normally might have, but it was still not terribly long before she realized exactly what she was being given. She recalled, what seemed like a long, long time ago, telling Aspel that she would listen to whatever the other woman chose to tell her of her past, and never ask for more than she was willing to give; it seemed now, she was to get something like the full story at last. And so she closed her eyes and listened. Aspel was no bard, it was true, but she did have a way of bringing a recitation to life, and Ari could see, behind closed eyelids, a lonely and frustrated girl being shoved into a space that did not fit her (and why, she wondered, were all parents so intent on doing this?). It was an old tale, of course, even if it was new -- a rebellion against the expected, a desire for freedom and a search for self… With Aspel’s hand stroking over her hair and her voice quiet as the story was laid out, Ari slipped slowly but inexorably into sleep. She did not wake until she was lifted -- it was not much of a jostle, but her arm still twinged in protest -- and she opened heavy-lidded eyes to realize that despite the early hour, she was clearly being transported to her bed. She might have argued, but she felt woozy and exhausted, so really there was nothing for it but to smile very faintly and murmur her thanks before closing her eyes again and surrendering to sleep. There was a faint murmur, one that caught her attention and Aspel’s gaze shifted down, noting the bard had woken if only briefly. “Mm.” Would be all that was offered as Ari was carried over towards the bed. Shifting how the other woman laid in her arms, the covers were pulled back before Ari was placed in bed. A hand rested on the nightstand, taking a moment the covers would carefully be pulled up, easily tucking Ari into bed. With that, Aspel would take a few moments picking up the ‘living room’, and preparing the left overs for easy consumption before coming back, checking that a pain potion was easily within arms reach on the nightstand for when the other woman woke, and laying down over the covers to assure she wouldn’t easily bump into the bard and hurt her in their sleep. Rolling over, fingers easily caressed over Ari’s cheek, eyes wandering over the bard’s sleeping features. Perhaps, tomorrow, if the white mage cleared it, Aspel would have to make another visit just to assure the other woman received a bit of additional healing, just as Ari had offered her so many times before. “Rest well, sweet Seraph.” A soft kiss was pressed against Ari’s cheek. “May your dreams be guided by the wings of angels.” And with that, laying beside the bard with prayers for the bard’s quick recovery said, Aspel would eventually drift off to sleep as well. |