she blanches, and not from the chill in the air. the promise of a song had been spoken in somewhat of a jest, not really made to be carried out. how long had it been since she had sung? forever, it seems. how often she used to sing! the loreius chateau had been filled with song, once upon a time. mother had called her the greatest songbird in all of orlais; salons had even begged the eldest loreius daughter to perform from time to time. but it was in the quiet of the night when helena enjoyed singing the most: to her younger sister. lullabies were sung under the veil of the moon, to soothe the younger’s troubled sleep. hand was held until justina loreius fell into slumber.
absentmindedly, helena squeezed vic’s hand. memories of her family flooded her mind, and eyes blurred. no…it wasn’t the time to think of such things. she would think of her sister another time, alone, and allow unshed tears to fall. not now, under the gaze of another, who will ask questions she doesn’t want to answer.
“if you wish it…” helena licks her lips, wondering what her voice will even sound like after such a long time of no use. perhaps her voice will screech, and that will truly give him a fright…enough to truly bring him back to life. or perhaps her voice will actually sound decent…for a few moments helena ponders what to sing, before settling on her sister’s old favorite.
“too long I have traveled, soon i’ll see her smiling, the girl in red crossing i’m longing to see. oh, i know she is there, daisies in her hair, waiting by the chantry to marry me.” gently she begins to sing, the sad song her sister had always adored. her voice is shaky at first, before growing in strength. her thumb brushes his hand softly, as helena had done so many times in the past. “i found her lying there, daisies in her hair, waiting by the chantry to marry me..” silence, save for the crackling of the fire. she brushes a stray tear away, never breaking the joining of their hands. perhaps….she had sung well enough.
vic watches with a very expectant look, one that tells just how pleased with himself he is. poor helena, he thinks. by the time he’s well again, she’ll certainly want nothing more to do with him. that will be his own fault, though, as it usually turns out to be. at least he’s enjoying himself for now. but ... perhaps helena growing tired of him wouldn’t be something so easily shrugged off. come to think of it, such a thing sounds quite terrible. perhaps he’ll have to lay off, be less annoying so not to ruin everything. starting ... after the song, of course.
the singing was nice, relaxing, and he even shut his eyes for a moment to properly listen to it. his mind was still caught up in the hand holding his, the gentle squeeze and brushes that came with it. what a nice moment. soothing, even, if that's possible at such a time. of course it makes him nervous, nice moments like this are always ruined by something eventually, but for the time being ; everything’s quite alright.
so alright, even, that he finds himself drifting into slumber. hang on now, he thinks, this wasn’t the plan. he wants to stay awake, hear her sing some more, ⏤ he really has no actual interest in falling asleep. but he’s tired ... exhausted, actually. after the events of the day, how could he not be ? getting wounded is tiring enough as it is, but with the extra scare, now combated with helena’s comfort and singing ? he very well could fall asleep.
and he does, slowly. as he drifts off, there’s a sleepily murmured ❝ that was pretty, ❞ followed by a whispered ❝ thanks. ❞ his hand never moves from helena’s, and after a few tosses and sleepy sighs, he remains quiet for the rest of the night, as his body attempts to heal and prepare for what the next day would bring.
