[ it's evident enough that she doesn't hear him, unable to register anything else until well after he's lifted her up. It's gradual, but there's a feeble groan from Alvin's armful, and she shifts against him with all the expectancy of someone who doesn't want to wake up because it's too early and too bright and she'd rather bury her face in her pillow--
Except that's what prompts her closer to wakefulness. There's a strange weightlessness about her, like there's nothing supporting her, but if that was true, there wouldn't be warm fabric against her cheek.
Her eyes finally open, just barely. Just enough for her to make out brown and black, not enough to see the indistinct shapes of puzzled people. And when she opens them further, wincing as the light makes her vision burn at the edges, she looks up.
For all of a few seconds, she doesn't know him, this dark-haired man staring down at her. But then, suddenly, she does. She remembers fairy tales and tea in two mugs and a larger hand moving through her hair to gather it up. She remembers fire and an angry loneliness. ]
... Alvin... [ it's barely a whisper, but there's a sense of wonder right next to the hoarseness. It's a dream, she thinks, it has to be, and she'd be more than willing to go back to sleep. She doesn't have the energy to move. But that's not what leaves her mouth next. ]
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Except that's what prompts her closer to wakefulness. There's a strange weightlessness about her, like there's nothing supporting her, but if that was true, there wouldn't be warm fabric against her cheek.
Her eyes finally open, just barely. Just enough for her to make out brown and black, not enough to see the indistinct shapes of puzzled people. And when she opens them further, wincing as the light makes her vision burn at the edges, she looks up.
For all of a few seconds, she doesn't know him, this dark-haired man staring down at her. But then, suddenly, she does. She remembers fairy tales and tea in two mugs and a larger hand moving through her hair to gather it up. She remembers fire and an angry loneliness. ]
... Alvin... [ it's barely a whisper, but there's a sense of wonder right next to the hoarseness. It's a dream, she thinks, it has to be, and she'd be more than willing to go back to sleep. She doesn't have the energy to move. But that's not what leaves her mouth next. ]
Where am I?