[mischievouslittleelf:]
“That was certainly quick,” Gladiin mumbled under his breath. It was mostly a thought for himself rather than something to pertain to the conversation.
“If you’re as ready as you’re ever going to be, as am I, then we might as well.”
With that, Gladiin took the first step forward. Silently he was glad that he had his back facing Fienelef due to every step making him wince. Anyone could see that he was tense, but he wanted to play it off that he was just worried if he would not go to jail once they reached Falkreath.
That is if there was a bounty on his head in the first place.
They walked for a bit and, in watching him, Fienelef felt something different. It wasnt’t just in the time that had passed, no, things like that could be mended with jokes and laughter, with light hands and questions as to how people had been.
The difference was in him.
She picked up her pace a little until she was walking beside him, her hands in her pockets as she looked up at him with her large eyes.
“Gladiin.” There was something soft in the way she said his name, the concern more than clear in her voice. “Are you alright?”
“Never better.”
There was an obvious strain in his voice. Shit.
“I hit a rough patch while trying to make it up here.” The sentence came out as one long breath. Trying not to fall down and curl into a ball to cry the pain away did not seem like an option at this point, so toughing it was the next best thing. “I’ll be better soon, just need to kinda rest it here and there. Not a big issue.”
