[In the midst of snowfall like this isn't really the place to settle down and have a chat, but he's so cold she can practically feel the stiffness of his joints herself. The intent is to rest only long enough for him to warm himself against her, and no longer. He needs to get the blood moving in his body. They need to find either a split in the rock, or somewhere she can dig under the earth, at worst, somewhere she can get through the packed snow to dig them out an igloo. Wood for fire would be good, but she isn't holding her breath.
She tucks tight around him. It's not unlike when they first crashed down to El Nysa, the first night he fell asleep after he visited with her and she tended to him. She's more intense, though, as if she can't get her muscles to relax, since there's an urgency in all this, going into the way she adjusts herself. Her head blankets him, periodically she gingerly paws his hands or small legs to make sure they're covered. She licks over the snow or frost on him, combs free with her teeth. All the while, her ears stay down, denoting no harm, never ill-means.
There's once or twice, slowly, taking considerable care, she catches one of his arms in her molars. Just to let it set, glancing sidelong at him so he understands where she's going. The senses of her nose help her to be careful of the parts inside him that he wasn't born with, and when she's certain he's all right with it, she gnaws gently. Nothing piercing or bruising, like a toothy massage to encourage heat back into him. These are only a few seconds, less even, but the fact stands that her fussing has an edge to it.
She knows he won't die here, but she's trying to show him ways to stay alive once they're somewhere real again, in case she can't be his support.
Because she can't. She can't always be his support, or anyone else's. She's not as powerful as the Natha, and they don't utilize her, but she figures it's because she hasn't much in the way to give for usefulness. She's a sliver. But her thoughts are on him, on what he's told her, and the next time she lays her head across him she's stiller than usual, quieter, reflective, and unintentionally withdrawn. She's not this type, the dwelling kind, but how can she not be when she's very limited here?
When she's asleep or powerless otherwise to handle something when life needs her most. She can't be angry when people have turned their backs, because of course, of course they would. She's a sliver. What's more is, ever since Rocket, she's wondered at the things mortals are capable of, even without the direct influence of evil. She's always known they stray, that they have the capacity for both wonderful and terrible things, and at times, both. She's witnessed war; she's witnessed a number of cruelties, but nothing else quite like him. What was done to him.
She's never known a person to force a being back into life, when it should have been left to remain in peace.
With a tired sigh, tired in the way only beings who have lived too long can be, she hefts up her head and shakes it faintly to rid the blanket of snow that's piled on her head and muzzle. She has a heaviness about her in general. Is she naive? She wishes she could ask him, but would he understand. Has she been going about it all wrong? Should she have been a god full of wrath and unforgiveness? This universe isn't even hers to be concerned with, and yet. Here she is. Unable to stop herself, the well-being and promise of everyone at the forefront of her mind.]
well this got disgustingly long i'm v v sorry
She tucks tight around him. It's not unlike when they first crashed down to El Nysa, the first night he fell asleep after he visited with her and she tended to him. She's more intense, though, as if she can't get her muscles to relax, since there's an urgency in all this, going into the way she adjusts herself. Her head blankets him, periodically she gingerly paws his hands or small legs to make sure they're covered. She licks over the snow or frost on him, combs free with her teeth. All the while, her ears stay down, denoting no harm, never ill-means.
There's once or twice, slowly, taking considerable care, she catches one of his arms in her molars. Just to let it set, glancing sidelong at him so he understands where she's going. The senses of her nose help her to be careful of the parts inside him that he wasn't born with, and when she's certain he's all right with it, she gnaws gently. Nothing piercing or bruising, like a toothy massage to encourage heat back into him. These are only a few seconds, less even, but the fact stands that her fussing has an edge to it.
She knows he won't die here, but she's trying to show him ways to stay alive once they're somewhere real again, in case she can't be his support.
Because she can't. She can't always be his support, or anyone else's. She's not as powerful as the Natha, and they don't utilize her, but she figures it's because she hasn't much in the way to give for usefulness. She's a sliver. But her thoughts are on him, on what he's told her, and the next time she lays her head across him she's stiller than usual, quieter, reflective, and unintentionally withdrawn. She's not this type, the dwelling kind, but how can she not be when she's very limited here?
When she's asleep or powerless otherwise to handle something when life needs her most. She can't be angry when people have turned their backs, because of course, of course they would. She's a sliver. What's more is, ever since Rocket, she's wondered at the things mortals are capable of, even without the direct influence of evil. She's always known they stray, that they have the capacity for both wonderful and terrible things, and at times, both. She's witnessed war; she's witnessed a number of cruelties, but nothing else quite like him. What was done to him.
She's never known a person to force a being back into life, when it should have been left to remain in peace.
With a tired sigh, tired in the way only beings who have lived too long can be, she hefts up her head and shakes it faintly to rid the blanket of snow that's piled on her head and muzzle. She has a heaviness about her in general. Is she naive? She wishes she could ask him, but would he understand. Has she been going about it all wrong? Should she have been a god full of wrath and unforgiveness? This universe isn't even hers to be concerned with, and yet. Here she is. Unable to stop herself, the well-being and promise of everyone at the forefront of her mind.]