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[somatosensory]

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[somatosensory]

Oh?

( he pauses mid-reach into the jar. did she think he'd try to change her mind? but, no — this isn't about her. it's about him. his plans.

he hadn't settled on whether he was going or not. as angry as he'd been about her leaving, he also had no reason to believe she was lying about what she'd seen.

but it'd also be a lie to say he wasn't curious. and if anyone was likely to make it through in one piece, it'd probably be him. )

[telepathy]

You are mine, as much as I am yours.

[ it's not up for negotiation, in other words. if he gets to make those kinds of demands, state them as unmitigated fact, then she will do the same. ]

[somatosensory]

( well. when she puts it like that ... he still wants to argue.

she can probably tell. can hear him turn it over in his head, weighing and measuring, before deciding to set it aside. the void isn't going anywhere. )

Fine. ( a little nod. he has plans, anyway. )

[telepathy]

Eat.

[ she raps her knuckle on the mason jar's base. ]

You have no plans until you recover.

[ then, yawning, she pulls the blanket back over her and shuts her eyes. ]

[somatosensory]

( a huff. not quite a laugh but tilting toward amusement all the same. the audacity of her, mothering him.

the audacity of him to enjoy it, even a little.

silence. he makes his way to the bottom of the mason jar, sets it aside with the mug and then reaches for her, brushing the hair back from her ear.

it's a concession; a reminder — she's not alone. )

[telepathy]

[ it feels nice, when she lets it. when she can assure herself that he has earned it, that no one would reproach her for following the rules of her people. her only crime was weakness.

she lifts a hand to cover his as she turns her face, pressing her cheek into his palm and breathing deep of him. reminding herself that he is alive, too. ]