When they have finally, finally ascended the staircase and Benedict has wrestled Athessa to her room, he elbows the door open, picks his way through the various kittens winding against his legs, and deposits her on her bed.
He's worked up quite a sweat, and stands there looking at Athessa like he might just smother her with a pillow now that she's here.
Athessa sprawls on the bed, and might've just passed out were it not for that command. She blinks at his pointing hand, then reaches to grab it. Not his finger, but his hand or wrist, whichever she can get a hold on to pull him onto the bed with her.
If he weren't trying so hard to keep from treading on a cat, Benedict might actually manage to keep his footing; but he is, so he doesn't. He topples across Athessa, catching himself on the opposite side of the bed with his hips resting over her stomach.
Taking a moment to get his bearings, he looks crossly over his shoulder at her. "I'm not sleeping here," he remarks.
"Here," is all she says, patting the mattress next to her. Of course he's not going to sleep here, draped across her like that. Though he will have to move Ser Percival off of the pillow if he expects to use it.
He moves off her and over to the spot indicated, situating himself such that he can hang out here and keep an eye on her until she goes to sleep. One idle hand moves to pet Ser Percival, because it's physically impossible and also illegal to have a cat in one's reach and not pet them.
For a few seconds after he situates himself, she keeps patting the mattress. But then she stops and wriggles a bit to find that perfect, comfortable spot and mumbles some explanation of the cat situation, incoherently waving towards the floor at Clever Lunete and Myria (or whoever that one is).
"S'Percival," she says, booping the named kitten's nose and getting playfully swatted at in return.
Mistake! Athessa gets hold of Bene's arm again, this time to hug his arm as if it's a teddy bear, pressing his palm against her cheek with a contented Hmm.
That abruptly changes the mood. Benedict focuses on her, thoughtful, his hand on Percival stilling.
Then, rather than try to verbally reassure her in this state, he gently pulls his gripped hand free and scootches closer to wrap his arm around her instead. He rests his chin on the top of her head, feeling a bit like an idiot but, at the same time, knowing this is the right thing to do.
There's a familiar arrangement of limbs here that plays on her subconscious as she curls up against him. Face to his chest (hers), arms draped bonelessly around him (tracing the tattoo on her back), it's not close enough to do anything but tease out sensory memory.
She mumbles something else, but it's lost in his shirt and spoken in broken Elven anyway.
Athessa's bed is certifiably more comfortable than the one Bene sleeps in down in the public dorm, and there's a kitten purring next to his head, and it's warm with Athessa burrowing into him. He's only been in a position like this a few times, but usually it was before or after something more happened, and it's strangely peaceful that the chances of it being complicated by such a thing are approximately zero.
He lets his eyes close, just for a second. Just until she falls asleep, he tells himself.
She, of course, doesn't remember falling asleep, or being dragged to her room, or Benedict diagnosing the drumming within the walls as her own silly heartbeat.
So she's a bit surprised when she wakes up cuddling with someone, and even more surprised by who it is.
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[sounds of light scuffling, likely as he tries to both catch his own balance and make sure she keeps hers.]
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[ more scuffling ]
Don't you know how t'properly carry a body?
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[scuffle, then a pause as they catch their breath.]
...all right, one more.
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I need a nap. I'm gonna take a nap right here.
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Maybe I should carry you up the stairs.
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[ because it's totally mean to have someone try to make sure you sleep in your own bed instead of the hallway, right ]
back in prose because I'm mean
He's worked up quite a sweat, and stands there looking at Athessa like he might just smother her with a pillow now that she's here.
"Sleep," he commands, pointing at her.
Re: back in prose because I'm mean
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If he weren't trying so hard to keep from treading on a cat, Benedict might actually manage to keep his footing; but he is, so he doesn't. He topples across Athessa, catching himself on the opposite side of the bed with his hips resting over her stomach.
Taking a moment to get his bearings, he looks crossly over his shoulder at her.
"I'm not sleeping here," he remarks.
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One idle hand moves to pet Ser Percival, because it's physically impossible and also illegal to have a cat in one's reach and not pet them.
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"S'Percival," she says, booping the named kitten's nose and getting playfully swatted at in return.
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It's not any more coherent than what she's said before, but it's smaller, quieter, and a lot less silly.
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Then, rather than try to verbally reassure her in this state, he gently pulls his gripped hand free and scootches closer to wrap his arm around her instead. He rests his chin on the top of her head, feeling a bit like an idiot but, at the same time, knowing this is the right thing to do.
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She mumbles something else, but it's lost in his shirt and spoken in broken Elven anyway.
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He's only been in a position like this a few times, but usually it was before or after something more happened, and it's strangely peaceful that the chances of it being complicated by such a thing are approximately zero.
He lets his eyes close, just for a second. Just until she falls asleep, he tells himself.
TIME SKIP
So she's a bit surprised when she wakes up cuddling with someone, and even more surprised by who it is.
"Wha—?"
Re: TIME SKIP
Re: TIME SKIP
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