❛ she’s a great kid. ❜ he was right, she was not his responsibility. however, he paid that no mind. the first mention of her being struck with an unknown illness startled him. if it were something simple, he wouldn’t have been consulted. the fact that it was so important that it was his brain they needed to pick at, he wanted to take no chances. and if what he was saying was true, he hoped his presence brought her some comfort while she waited for Matteo to return ❛ there was no need for Anjou or Yeran to waste time and come to the Steppe. For Nimue, I didn’t mind running to the markets and finding out what I could. I’ve only known her for a little bit of time, but it’s not hard to see why you all love her so much. ❜ he liked that, being important. he thinks back to when he arrived, to Nimue’s weak, but excited ‘ Kazu! ’ it was heartbreaking to hear her voice so broken, and yet she still managed to have that regular light to her voice. it was like she really hadn’t registered how sick she truly was.
❛ Anjou has, I just really never realized it until now. I’d want nothing more than to be that for Nimue. it was strange at first to wrap my head around her memory loss, but after getting to know her I really just want to answer any questions she has. ❜ it was true, Kazutame has gifted her items from the Steppe, and books. he picked up on her love for reading, after all. ❛ whenever she has questions or whatever, i’ll always be ready to answer them. my linkpearl doesn’t work in the mines, but otherwise.. i’m always available. ❜ and that was to put it lightly.
❛ anyway her room’s all good to go. I changed the scent, mother said it helps with pain. I don’t really know if it’s going to work, but she seems to like the smells. they probably remind her of home. I’ll leave to let her get some more rest. ❜ he watches Matteo place her back into her room with a concerned gaze, hoping that now that he was here, she’d wake up perfectly fine.
hours had gone by, soon she’d slept the rest of the day prior. the last thing she remembered was falling asleep against Matteo. this was often, though. most nights she’d stay up late anticipating his return, only to fall asleep minutes after his arrival. she’d wake up in her bedroom, eagerly searching for him in the morning. however, she knew that only a day ago she was hardly able to get up on her own. she’d been bedridden for days. today felt different, though. she felt normal. so slowly, she attempts to pick herself up.
it was so freeing to stand. in truth, she was not sure if she was dreaming or not. ( something a simple pinch would solve. ) she smiles, eager to walk herself out of her room, which truthfully, after a few days of being stuck in it felt more like a small prison. it felt as if she were walking on air, while she felt better she could tell something was really off. maybe it was just that she’d been a rock for a week straight.
upon reaching Matteo’s office, her smile grows greater seeing him in there. ❛ big brother! ❜ even her voice sounded normal. ❛ look big brother! I’m better now! ❜
she was right. he always made everything better.
PAPERWORK, BOOKKEEPING, other tedious administration — he occupies himself with the most menial of tasks, knowing his presence would grant the girl comfort whilst she recuperated. It’s but a small sacrifice ; he’d willingly bear hours of repetition, white noise did little to make this mock penance more palpable. Call it a familial obligation, akin to a motherly hen — he merely dons the guise. It’s the gentle patter of feet which comes first, which he is quick to recognize — Nimue. He’d offer a double take once his charge had arrived. She’d been the last person he’d expect to wander, let alone be on her feet. He’s hesitant, reserved in his need to celebrate. She’s all cheers ; free of duress, cheeks alight, soft rose teeming. It’s the warmth of life, counteracting waxen pallor and its drear, soothing her crippling malaise. Cast out is the touch of death and all its ghastly maquillage. She’d convalesced so brief. Odd. A hum rolls, never-ending. Matteo’s skepticism runs deep in its undeniable intensity.
Had he not known better, he may have considered it a bout of delirium. The culmination of a dozen sleepless nights finally chose its dawn, dropping its might upon his head. He’d allowed a blink or two, deliberate and weighted to refresh his vision, and still she stands with vitality and blushing cheeks ( innocuous and bubbly as before ). Ghostly sheets sweeping ceramic floors, and foul demeanour, they were all so much easier to believe. He should be happy — that optimism is arresting, infectiously pure. Warranted. He knows better than to cling to something so fleeting. He knows better.
Stalling himself any longer would stifle the mood, sour her celebration. She felt better, her illness allowed her a taste of normalcy ( which he deems a farce. How cruel ; the virulent demons lie in wait ). He’d risen from his chair to approach, brought a hand up to dishevel her locks with fingers, allowing them to cascade in a flaxen mess. Somehow he feels guilt boring its pins, prodding and peppering his throat, futility swallowing the imaginary lump to quell its sting. He contributes to that false sense of hope, a half truth he’d permit himself to indulge — if anything it was for her sake. Hardened poker faces fared better elsewhere, not within these walls. Not within her presence.
❛ I’m glad to hear that, but I still want you to take it easy, alright? ❜ His voice had softened then, reattempting that question, hoping to gain some insight. ❛ I asked you before, about that man, where exactly did you meet him? What did he look like? I don’t expect you to remember everything, but even a vague description is enough. Something about this isn’t sitting properly with me. ❜
blakekathryn
janainaart
origamiaround
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
titsay
izzy806
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
