[ He doesn't blink when she grips tightly, and he doesn't give it back. he still stays light, the same way he soothed Emily's feverish brow when she grew distressed in her dreams -- all her dreams now. She had done nothing but slept fitfully since that day and he doesn't think Amber has either. Some things did not need explanation.
Which there is nothing to say, so he doesn't. That was all of it, and it wasn't much, but there wasn't much left of them either, so he makes up for it the simple ways, the little ways. His hand in hers, the pad of his thumb rough against the dump of her knuckle. His hands broad from years of sword work, as much as they are marred.
But right now, at least, they're sure of this small space and the littleness of her digits. ]
no subject
Which there is nothing to say, so he doesn't. That was all of it, and it wasn't much, but there wasn't much left of them either, so he makes up for it the simple ways, the little ways. His hand in hers, the pad of his thumb rough against the dump of her knuckle. His hands broad from years of sword work, as much as they are marred.
But right now, at least, they're sure of this small space and the littleness of her digits. ]