Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, |
“Of a sorts.” Aspel’s voice was soft, a bit of concern present regardless of her careful attempts to conceal such. “Ah, well, there are many of them this week I hear, did you not obtain your invite?” The weakest smile Aspel may have ever mustered was offered in return. The kiss was faint, but returned, however, the smith shifted, carefully pulling the bard closer, and hesitantly wrapping her arms around the other woman softly at first before tightening her hold. She’d almost faced death today, if it weren’t for Mag she likely would be. In fact, there was a…. No. Her grip tightened on Ari, face burying in the bard’s hair. “I am glad you are safe.” It would last longer than a normal hug, but overall not long in the grand scheme of their lives before Aspel shifted, limping back slightly to let her eyes wander down over the other woman, taking in what she could of the bard’s state. “I believe we both have seen better days, no?” A weak smile was offered then, and a nod was made to indicate behind her. “Let us be healed, and rest.” "My popularity must have waned," Ari joked back. It seemed Aspel still had her humor. Perhaps that was the best they could hope for tonight. "I suppose I will just have to attend as your escort." Not that funny, actually. A little too true to be funny. And so she, too, lingered a bit in the embrace, arms settled loosely around the other woman's waist so as not to cause pain -- who knew where Aspel’s injuries hid? -- and trying for a smile when they parted. "I could do with some rest," she said. "I have likely had all the healing I can take for the moment." “Then rest we shall.” Another weak smile, Aspel’s hand shifting to take Ari’s. “You are welcome to the bed if you can make the stairs.” A glance was tossed over her shoulder back towards the storage room door. So many hadn’t been able to make the stairs, it was… Depressing. There were likely dead bodies in the room, and…. Her heart sank. No matter what happened tomorrow she couldn’t, wouldn’t let those she cared for die. Aspel wouldn’t be able to take them going before her. Regardless of her thoughts, another strained smile remained. She couldn’t fall apart, couldn’t break apart right now, not with so many relying on her, not with their backs against the walls, and the stakes being down on them all. A councilor had to press on, had to assure, had to…. Be realistic while not letting them know how bad it was unless she had to. Faram. How could she tell the people in this room that many of them were likely to die tomorrow? She…. “Can you make the stairs?” |