♥ // ♞ (dimitri's ill) // ♠ -- all from dimitri!
♥: Your muse crying about something
“Hey, no,” Nicolette’s arms wrapped around his neck to rest upon his shoulders as she nearly leapt up into his arms. “You won’t lose me, Mitya,” tears pricked her own eyes as she held him close. “You need to do this, you need to get out from under his thumb. It’s making you miserable, I understand.” Salt water ran down her cheeks in droplets as her tears fell and she held him close. “He won’t keep me from you just because he’s upset. He can’t do that. I won’t allow it. Maman won’t allow it. We will see each other. We will see each other a lot.” She wanted to beg him not to go so she could always have him close, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “Text me, call me. Wherever you go I’ll find a way to get to you. Or you could always come pick me up. I love you.” Soft sobs wracked her as she held him even closer and sniffed. “So much, Mitya. You’ll never have to let me go.”
♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)
Brown eyes lifted from the book she was reading, Anna Karenina -- of course, when she heard him stirring. She’d been watching him for at least an hour since he fell asleep, staying with him while he was sick and hardly leaving except for when she had school and he made her go, or well, her father did. It was part of him agreeing for her to stay over with Dimitri in the first place. But still, she always made sure to be ready for if he woke up again and needed anything -- a bucket, some water, soup... “Dimitri?” Her fingers closed around the bound leather before she got up and crossed over to kneel down by his side, face to face. “Do you need anything?” Her hand went to the bowl of water with the cloth floating in it before wringing it out and putting it to his forehead like she’d been doing periodically. “Whatever you need, I’ll get it. Even if I have to leave.” Anything.
♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/etc.
“Don’t worry so much, Mitya,” ‘Colette murmured tenderly, relying on a diminutive of his name like a term of endearment, as her fingers wrapped carefully around the ends of the silken tie she’d just brought around his neck. “You’ll do great at the interview, and you’ll do great as a teacher. And then you’ll get to see me more. Especially when I’m the first one to sign up for your class,” her smile was gentle and she carefully knotted the tie before sliding it up and tightening it just the right amount around his neck. “They’re not going to turn you down, I promise. Even if they did, they’d have a fiery little pixie knocking down their doors to give them a lecture,” she teased when she pulled back to admire her work and stepped down from the stair she was standing on only to be closer to him and wrap her arms around his frame, her head reaching his chest as she squeezed. “Ya lyublyu tebya. Knock ‘em dead.”
