It wasn't anything special-- [ she begins, modestly, before she stops. Because that robe should be a tactician's robe, and it's obviously not her best friend's, but Robin's voice was different. Even so...
She knows it. Night after night, dreams that had her lurching awake, clutching at her chest and biting her lip, and so exhausted from the memory and the force of longing, but she couldn't allow herself to regret it if that was the only way she could hear his voice now--
It occurs to her to check for any Risen lurching their way, but for the time being, it looks as though they're finally being contained by the others. It's all right for her to step closer, for her eyes to finally land on his face, and to finally make out the details there right before they start to blur again.
no subject
She knows it. Night after night, dreams that had her lurching awake, clutching at her chest and biting her lip, and so exhausted from the memory and the force of longing, but she couldn't allow herself to regret it if that was the only way she could hear his voice now--
It occurs to her to check for any Risen lurching their way, but for the time being, it looks as though they're finally being contained by the others. It's all right for her to step closer, for her eyes to finally land on his face, and to finally make out the details there right before they start to blur again.
Is she crying? Is any of this real? ]
M-Morgan? Is that really you...?