@hisrising || 𝐿𝐼𝒦𝐸𝒟 for a 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝑅𝒯𝐸𝑅
Some mornings truly were meant for quiet observation; the way the breaking of dawn painted the sparsely clouded heavens in mixed tones of beauteous pink and orange. The very warmth radiated from the view itself was enough to instil a newfound quantity of resolve within ones heart; a promise that ones strength to get through the trials of the day ahead would be enough.
Each day does he begin the very same; honey brown eyes fixated upon the horizon with hope sinking into the marrow of his very bones. Change could be smelled upon the breeze, and whether it would lead to the best or the worst outcome, they would not yet know. Time - - it would tell whether they'd done enough; and the very weight of that responsibility sometimes grew too much for shoulders yet young to the world surrounding.
Useless; he felt useless. Much remained to be done, much needed to be addressed and yet he found himself bound to the comforts of a bed, still. The furthest he had been deemed fit enough to pace to was the nearby window, and slowly - - the confines of the infirmary within the Hideaway he had not known to exist until arrival began to gnaw 'pon his comfort.
Polite smiles and quietude became second nature, his mind finding far too much time to lurk and linger upon thoughts that only bought dismay and emotional agony; a self-torture, of sorts. How could he not-- memories were fragmented, blurred and spotty and yet - - and yet - - he can recall some of the vulgarities that now haunted him and robbed him of sleep.
"I admire your ability to get up so very quickly." Honeyed eyes had closed once words were uttered, periphery taking note of a familiar figure walking into view beforehand. "It appears that I take longer to recover each time I am put down, nowadays."
Agitation briefly writes itself across his expression ere it is replaced by a small, appreciative smile, eyes reopening to regard his company as kindly as he can muster. Much continues to happen, gets overwhelming, and yet Joshua - - continues even with his stacked difficulties. An inspiration, he thinks.
"I would much rather be upon my feet sooner, but I dare not anger your healer, Tarja. I dare say she may just shackle my wrist to the bed frame if I do not behave-" His smile remains, the slight jest to his tone suggesting he is feeling better than he had been and now naught short of raring to go, even if bruising yet lingers and soreness sits within bones.
Time was short- they had not endless hours to spend.
