[ Gideon holds Ortus tightly. Cling might be more accurate, honestly, although she'd never admit that, especially not to herself. The pressure feels good, even while the finer aspects of sensation are still missing. Gideon can feel a hint of warmth, at least, and she's doing her best to count her blessings. Her skin is still cold to the touch, and she hopes Ortus doesn't mind. She doubts he'll say anything about it, at least. ]
Yeah, dummy. Thought you were supposed to be the smarter cavalier.
[ Thanks to all the books and stuff. There's no bite of sarcasm to Gideon's words. If anything, her tone is the opposite: a soft, nearly choked relief at being a member of a group. Part of an us, rather than an extra annoyance no one wants around.
Gideon doesn't move, not for a while. Instead, she tucks her head in the nook where Ortus' neck meets his shoulder, making herself as small as she can. She feels younger, like this. Tiny. She is eleven years old again, and this time, she is not rocking herself to nightmarish sleep inside an empty cell.
She should thank him. Or make a joke, or put Ortus at ease somehow. He must have been so worried. But what comes out instead, in a very small voice, is: ]
no subject
Yeah, dummy. Thought you were supposed to be the smarter cavalier.
[ Thanks to all the books and stuff. There's no bite of sarcasm to Gideon's words. If anything, her tone is the opposite: a soft, nearly choked relief at being a member of a group. Part of an us, rather than an extra annoyance no one wants around.
Gideon doesn't move, not for a while. Instead, she tucks her head in the nook where Ortus' neck meets his shoulder, making herself as small as she can. She feels younger, like this. Tiny. She is eleven years old again, and this time, she is not rocking herself to nightmarish sleep inside an empty cell.
She should thank him. Or make a joke, or put Ortus at ease somehow. He must have been so worried. But what comes out instead, in a very small voice, is: ]
You kept my sword.