[ Look, at least he admitted it's not all sunshine and rainbows! That's no easy feat, especially when she brings up her next order of business. ]
O-oh, u-um, I... [ She's not suggesting she's going to...change his bedding, is she? ] I-it's fine! I mean, I'd just get the new sheets all gross too, so...
You could.. apply that logic to your sheets under normal circumstances, you know that, right? Or your clothing. Are you going to wear the same dirty shirt all the time because you will just soil it again?
[ she knows he won't because he's suck a finicky little vain boy. ]
Come now, up with you. You will not recover more quickly lying around in your own infection.
[ Its contents mostly drained now, Prompto sets the bowl of soup down on the nightstand, before opening his mouth to protest once more. She really doesn't have to touch his filthy, nasto sheets, he can do it himself if she's so concerned about it — but before he can get the words out, a cough sticks in his throat, leading him into a fit that doesn't subside until he's dizzy with his head bent towards his knees. ]
Urgh...n-not gonna take no for an answer, are you?
[ With a groan, he pushes himself to his feet at last, but tugs a blanket along with him. It does little to mitigate the chills racing over him, but still...
He toddles over to a nearby armchair, dropping into it unceremoniously. ]
[ nope, she's definitely not going to take no for an answer.. he should know her well enough by now to have known that all but immediately. thankfully she does not need to argue any further, his coughing fit alone is more than enough to drive her point home without any further assistance. really, he should change into fresh clothing as well, but she won't give them both a coronary this day..
alisaie finds the sheets without a problem, stacked up on the shelf of his closet as specified, above all of his edgy vests and black tank tops. she pulls them down and sets to work stripping his gross sickbed while conversing. ]
Honestly, I wish there was more I could do.
[ the sheets drop into the nearby hamper, and she sets to stripping the cases off of the pillows next, her voice dropping. ]
That this has even happened at all is.. [ a beat - she won't trouble him with her astoria rants right now, while he's ill. ] .. refreshing bedding seems the least I can manage. If only I had access to curative magic..
[ Not today, but she can help him change when he's gone blind, instead. :blush:
He curls up on the chair while she works, watching her through heavily lidded eyes while holding his knees to his chest. She does so much for him...more than she realizes. He'd only meant to use talking to her as a means to escape his boredom and pass the time, and yet here she is, changing his sheets, saying it isn't enough. Doesn't she realize how special that is? How special she is? How special she is, that she would give someone like him this treatment?
Aside from his friends, his brothers, no one...has ever really given him this kind of care or attention before. There's a sharp prick at the corners of his eyes, but it's easy enough to pass off as sinuses. ]
You're doing more than enough. Just...just make sure you take care of you, too.
[ Or it'll be El Minha all over again. He knows her tendency to overwork herself, and the reminder to rest every once in awhile is warranted. ]
she knows what the nature of his answer will be even before he voices it, but it is nowhere near enough. of course she could do more. she must do more. gods, but she is so tired of standing helplessly by while the people in her life suffer. she could do nothing for her grandsire, she could do nothing for emery, or ga bu, or the scions and civilians who have lost their lives. she can do nothing now for her brother, whose life is at stake back home, and here, should this illness grip him further.
she can do nothing for prompto, either. she can bring him soup, and change his linens, but that is about as much use as digging through a mountain with a spoon. it will not ease his pain, it will not cure what ails him. all she's doing is going through the movements to keep from going mad, to make her feel as if she is somehow making a difference, when she isn't. she's useless. deadweight. more people will slip through her fingers while she stands aside like a lost little girl, powerless to change it.
sometimes she wonders what the point of it all is.
of course, she says none of this, and only shakes her head, though her expression remains hard and grim, she does what she can to disguise her frustrations. ]
I'll be fine. Think about yourself.
[ what do a few sleepless nights matter, when he and so many others grow more sickly by the day?
the fresh sheets are on now, with a clean blanket as well, and she beckons. ]
[ He mutters again before summoning the energy to push himself to his feet again. For someone who's spent the last week lazing about in bed, he's sure feeling drained and sore...
But...this helps. Those freshly changed sheets look heavenly, and as he passes by her, he summons a soft, warm smile, letting his hand fall on her shoulder, squeezing gently. He lingers a moment, wiping at his eyes with his free hand, before moving to collapse onto the bed again. ]
That feels heavenly...you're a saint.
[ Don't think he didn't notice how she brushed off his concern there!! But he won't argue it right now. Not when his aching bones are sinking so perfectly against those soft and clean sheets.
He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, inhaling slow, shallow breaths. ]
I'd rather think about you...
[ ...No, he didn't really think those words through, but, uh, they're still true. ]
[ everyone knows that feeling, of slipping into fresh, crisp sheets - it's lovely, especially after a good bath, which he hasn't had but probably needs, but still. that she's managed to bring him even a small amount of relief is enough to urge a weary smile onto her mouth, just before she tugs off his blanket!! it's dirty!! there's a new one right here.
before he can grab it back she moves it away and tosses it to the hamper, before tugging up the fresh one she'd brought to pull it over him, though she pauses halfway, her cheeks warm. ]
Wha-
[ oh.. he means - yes. because she had told him to.. think about herself, but he's kind and thoughtful and wants to look after her instead - he didn't mean -
ahem. a-anyway. with her ears thoroughly reddened, she lifts her hands again to finish tugging up the blanket, but she stops again before she reaches his shoulders. ]
Y-you really should.. sleep only with a sheet, if you've a fever.
[ He can make out that surprise in her voice, and his eyelids flicker open so he can watch her through his dark eyelashes. What did he...say again? Why does she look so flustered? He just meant—
Well, no, that's not all he meant, and he thinks about her...a lot, but—
Ugh, he's too tired and sick to even be properly flustered. Even the flush in his cheeks doesn't really change anything, given how red he already is.
...And she seems to have realized it, too, though his brow creases when she stops tugging the blanket up for him. ]
[ ah yes, too sick to embarrass them both, there truly is a silver lining for every cloud.. ]
You aren't. You're very warm.
[ and just to be sure, she presses her hand to the side of his face, then his brow, sweeping aside his sticky hair. it's not a horribly life-threatening temperature she's feeling, but still warm enough to be cause for concern. frowning, she looks right into his face so that he can see her seriousness even through his hazy eyes. ]
[ Where a sleepy contentment existed before, leaning just so into her touch when she pushes back his hair, a cold (pun intended) terror sweeps over him now, eyes snapping open wide as he recoils. It's almost like she's already thrown ice upon him. ]
I-ice?! You gotta be kidding! I'm gonna freeze to death as it is!!
[ DON'T DO THIS TO HIM because yeah, he can't...stop her... ]
either way, she's already halfway out the door by the time he's yowling for her to cease and desist, and thankfully, the kitchens are not far at all, so it isn't long before she returns with a small basket of ice, and a clean rag. ]
Now, into the tub with you.
[ just kidding. but threatening him with an ice bath is funny. ]
[ Is she kidding, though??? He isn't sure, and her return with the ice sees him paling considerably. N-n-n-no thanks, he may be out of it but he is definitely not ready to strip down in front of her and let her throw ice on him!!! ]
H-heh, wouldn't you know it, I'm feelin' f-fit as a fiddle now! Yyyyyep!
[ ...He chases that statement with a sneeze that nearly shakes the walls. ]
[ okay, she can't hold it, she cracks with a laugh while carrying the ice to his bedside. ]
T'was a jest.
[ though i mean, if his fever does get high enough that it warrants it, she would definitely dump him in an ice bath.. but anyway, that is neither here nor there. ]
How about this. I shall allow the blanket, if you promise to keep your hands and feet out from it.
[ and also, the ice, but that goes without saying. seating herself again, alisaie begins to gather the ice carefully into the rag, tying it off. ]
[ That's about as good of a compromise as he's going to get, and he's just relieved enough she didn't mean it about the ice bath to accept without much grumbling. However, it's still a few moments more before he finally draws his arms out from beneath the blanket, resisting the urge to pull them right back in again.
[ she murmurs, gently, in the best bedside tone she can muster, and with the bundle tightly tied off she leans forward to slip it beneath his neck, right up at the base of his skull. ]
I know it is uncomfortable, but it is important to keep your temperature from climbing too high.
[ and that whole sweating out a fever thing is nonsense, so he can't pull that on her!! she takes the opportunity to tug the blankets off of his feet as well, and it doesn't take long before she spots his wristband. why is he still wearing it? it's thick and wide, and joints pool heat, so she's tugging at that as well, hooking her fingers beneath it. ]
Off with this sweaty thing, too, you must needs keep your wrists cool.
[ For a moment, he thinks nothing of it, which is truly a testament to just how ill he is. Of course he should take that off — it's only going to make him hotter, even if he doesn't feel it, but what's one more small thing if she thinks it will help? But it's...not a small thing. Not at all. If she takes his wristband off, she'll see...him. His code print. His number.
In an instant, his lethargy seems to vanish, replaced swiftly with a sharp panic that courses through him like electricity. His other hand snaps quickly over her own, his grasp ungentle, his breath rattling around in chest as he reaches for words that would not come to him easily at the best of times. How can he tell her...without telling her? How can he stop her? But he must. He must. ]
[ his reaction is so unexpected and strong that alisaie flinches when his hand snaps out, grasping her hand almost painfully hard, her breath caught and her heart kicked up into her throat. prompto has never reacted like this to her before - well okay, there was that time when she was a spider - but, not under normal circumstances.
at first, she does not know what to say, she can only gawp at him in surprise, her eyes wide and unsure, her posture stiff and unmoving. she makes no further attempt to pry at the band, but it is clear enough that she is.. absolutely flummoxed. it is only a wristband. is it special to him, somehow? mayhaps it was a gift? still, even were it sentimental to him in some way, that response was quite extreme. ]
I-
[ she starts, her mouth working, a crease in her brow. ]
I shan't lose it - we can put it aside, in your nightstand.
[ He hates it. Everything about it. The look in her eye, her clear surprise and dismay, because really, what could possibly be so important about a simple accessory? It's impractical to wear it at a time like this. He hates that he can't just let her take it, that he can't just let her see, that something as simple as removing a wristband tangles so deeply around his heart like barbed wire. But he can't, he can't—
Shame burns hot and deep beneath his skin, and his gaze drops from hers to some distant corner of the room. What must she think of him now, reacting so irrationally to something so...meaningless? Would it...still be meaningless, if she knew? Maybe. It...hardly matters here. This isn't Eos. The names of Lucis and Niflheim mean nothing to her. And that's on him, too — he's told her so woefully little about his world, asked so little about her own in return, and why, why, why after everything he's been through and learned, can he not just...let it go?
Because it's easier this way. It's safe. It's familiar. When he's a fun, lovable jokester, he doesn't have to worry about putting his heart on the line, of revealing all the cracked and broken parts of himself. He doesn't have to worry about his real self being rejected. But he'd been so determined to move past this. Before...
Before coming here. Before Noctis and Gladio and Ignis had all forgotten about everything that happened after Altissia. Heh...how selfish is he? To let something like that hold him back?
He's so ashamed.
Slowly, his hand draws back, bottom lip between his teeth, dug in deep. ]
[ it is clear enough that he will not budge on this, and clearer still that this is no small thing. it seems incredibly irrational, of course, but alisaie is sharp enough to see that there is more to this than vain accessorizing, this is something deeply troubling.
her heart sinks, something soft and subtle stabbing at her gut.
was it not he who was so vehement that they be open with one another? he who urged her to never be afraid to speak to him, as she had urged him? what is it that he is hiding from her? it must be something great, something terrible, something enormous, and a part of her can't help but feel marginally.. betrayed that he has hidden it from her, that he hides it still.
but that is a selfish feeling. this is not about her. none of it is. besides, he.. is a friend, certainly, a companion and a comrade, but that is all. he has no obligation to her, no need to divulge anything more than what he chooses to, and so she has no right to be upset or hurt by any secrets he might keep. no doubt he has plenty. this should not bother her. she lets it go, pushes it back and, swallowing thickly, nods her head and draws her hands away. he's certainly made himself perfectly clear, and she will pry no further - she never has. ]
All right.
[ she says, a hollow ring in her voice, but she's quick to move again, on her feet, keeping her hands busy gathering up the empty soup bowl. ]
I will.. um - I will leave the ice for you, should you feel you need more. I-I know that you feel cold, but you must needs try to keep your temperature down. I shall look in on you later.
[ He holds his breath until the moment her hand moves away, almost, almost hoping she will ignore his protests and pull off this damned wristband to see what lies beneath. Wouldn't it be simpler that way? If she forced her way in, if he had to explain, because there was no other path forward. Isn't...that what had happened with his friends? The only way for them to progress was with the access granted by his barcode. Would he have worked up the courage to tell them otherwise? He had told himself he would, that he wouldn't be afraid of what he is anymore —
And yet here he is, unable to tell someone so deeply important to him, continuing to hide away the depths of his heart from her. He hates it, and yet, he is still more afraid that he will lose everything if he tells her the truth.
Will he ever be able to move on from this?
The voices of doubt within his own mind feel insurmountable, and though Prompto opens his mouth to ask her to stay, the words just don't come. He has no right to ask that of her. Not now. Not after...all that.
She's already done more than enough, and he just...takes and takes and gives nothing back. ]
Okay. [ He mutters, low and quiet and hoarse, his energy all but spent now. ] Um...thanks again.
[ It sounds hollow, but he really doesn't know what else to say. All he wants to do is curl into a ball and sleep and hide himself away, and maybe dream of a place where he isn't so broken. ]
[ it's strange to feel uncomfortable around him, when prompto has made every effort to ever be easy and casual around her, but here we are. she cannot help but feel as if she's stumbled upon something private, somewhere she was not welcome. ]
Of course. You needn't thank me.
[ even helping in the smallest, most pointless of ways, is still helping..
but with the bowl gathered up and prompto as comfortable as she can make him, she clears her throat and retreats toward the door, halting for a moment to turn and look him over one final time. hopefully he takes her advice and doesn't pull his hands and feed right back under the covers once she's gone. ]
Do not be afraid to message me should you need anything.
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no subject
O-oh, u-um, I... [ She's not suggesting she's going to...change his bedding, is she? ] I-it's fine! I mean, I'd just get the new sheets all gross too, so...
[ It's """""fine""""". ]
no subject
[ she knows he won't because he's suck a finicky little vain boy. ]
Come now, up with you. You will not recover more quickly lying around in your own infection.
[ GET UP, PEASANT ]
no subject
Urgh...n-not gonna take no for an answer, are you?
[ With a groan, he pushes himself to his feet at last, but tugs a blanket along with him. It does little to mitigate the chills racing over him, but still...
He toddles over to a nearby armchair, dropping into it unceremoniously. ]
Top shelf of that closet, over there.
no subject
alisaie finds the sheets without a problem, stacked up on the shelf of his closet as specified, above all of his edgy vests and black tank tops. she pulls them down and sets to work stripping his gross sickbed while conversing. ]
Honestly, I wish there was more I could do.
[ the sheets drop into the nearby hamper, and she sets to stripping the cases off of the pillows next, her voice dropping. ]
That this has even happened at all is.. [ a beat - she won't trouble him with her astoria rants right now, while he's ill. ] .. refreshing bedding seems the least I can manage. If only I had access to curative magic..
[ BUT HEY SHE DOESN'T. ]
no subject
He curls up on the chair while she works, watching her through heavily lidded eyes while holding his knees to his chest. She does so much for him...more than she realizes. He'd only meant to use talking to her as a means to escape his boredom and pass the time, and yet here she is, changing his sheets, saying it isn't enough. Doesn't she realize how special that is? How special she is? How special she is, that she would give someone like him this treatment?
Aside from his friends, his brothers, no one...has ever really given him this kind of care or attention before. There's a sharp prick at the corners of his eyes, but it's easy enough to pass off as sinuses. ]
You're doing more than enough. Just...just make sure you take care of you, too.
[ Or it'll be El Minha all over again. He knows her tendency to overwork herself, and the reminder to rest every once in awhile is warranted. ]
no subject
she knows what the nature of his answer will be even before he voices it, but it is nowhere near enough. of course she could do more. she must do more. gods, but she is so tired of standing helplessly by while the people in her life suffer. she could do nothing for her grandsire, she could do nothing for emery, or ga bu, or the scions and civilians who have lost their lives. she can do nothing now for her brother, whose life is at stake back home, and here, should this illness grip him further.
she can do nothing for prompto, either. she can bring him soup, and change his linens, but that is about as much use as digging through a mountain with a spoon. it will not ease his pain, it will not cure what ails him. all she's doing is going through the movements to keep from going mad, to make her feel as if she is somehow making a difference, when she isn't. she's useless. deadweight. more people will slip through her fingers while she stands aside like a lost little girl, powerless to change it.
sometimes she wonders what the point of it all is.
of course, she says none of this, and only shakes her head, though her expression remains hard and grim, she does what she can to disguise her frustrations. ]
I'll be fine. Think about yourself.
[ what do a few sleepless nights matter, when he and so many others grow more sickly by the day?
the fresh sheets are on now, with a clean blanket as well, and she beckons. ]
Back in bed.
no subject
[ He mutters again before summoning the energy to push himself to his feet again. For someone who's spent the last week lazing about in bed, he's sure feeling drained and sore...
But...this helps. Those freshly changed sheets look heavenly, and as he passes by her, he summons a soft, warm smile, letting his hand fall on her shoulder, squeezing gently. He lingers a moment, wiping at his eyes with his free hand, before moving to collapse onto the bed again. ]
That feels heavenly...you're a saint.
[ Don't think he didn't notice how she brushed off his concern there!! But he won't argue it right now. Not when his aching bones are sinking so perfectly against those soft and clean sheets.
He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, inhaling slow, shallow breaths. ]
I'd rather think about you...
[ ...No, he didn't really think those words through, but, uh, they're still true. ]
no subject
before he can grab it back she moves it away and tosses it to the hamper, before tugging up the fresh one she'd brought to pull it over him, though she pauses halfway, her cheeks warm. ]
Wha-
[ oh.. he means - yes. because she had told him to.. think about herself, but he's kind and thoughtful and wants to look after her instead - he didn't mean -
ahem. a-anyway. with her ears thoroughly reddened, she lifts her hands again to finish tugging up the blanket, but she stops again before she reaches his shoulders. ]
Y-you really should.. sleep only with a sheet, if you've a fever.
no subject
Well, no, that's not all he meant, and he thinks about her...a lot, but—
Ugh, he's too tired and sick to even be properly flustered. Even the flush in his cheeks doesn't really change anything, given how red he already is.
...And she seems to have realized it, too, though his brow creases when she stops tugging the blanket up for him. ]
B-but I...I'm so cold...
[ Don't take away his blankie! ]
no subject
You aren't. You're very warm.
[ and just to be sure, she presses her hand to the side of his face, then his brow, sweeping aside his sticky hair. it's not a horribly life-threatening temperature she's feeling, but still warm enough to be cause for concern. frowning, she looks right into his face so that he can see her seriousness even through his hazy eyes. ]
I am going to fetch some ice.
[ and he's sick so he can't stop her!! ]
no subject
I-ice?! You gotta be kidding! I'm gonna freeze to death as it is!!
[ DON'T DO THIS TO HIM because yeah, he can't...stop her... ]
no subject
either way, she's already halfway out the door by the time he's yowling for her to cease and desist, and thankfully, the kitchens are not far at all, so it isn't long before she returns with a small basket of ice, and a clean rag. ]
Now, into the tub with you.
[ just kidding. but threatening him with an ice bath is funny. ]
no subject
H-heh, wouldn't you know it, I'm feelin' f-fit as a fiddle now! Yyyyyep!
[ ...He chases that statement with a sneeze that nearly shakes the walls. ]
no subject
T'was a jest.
[ though i mean, if his fever does get high enough that it warrants it, she would definitely dump him in an ice bath.. but anyway, that is neither here nor there. ]
How about this. I shall allow the blanket, if you promise to keep your hands and feet out from it.
[ and also, the ice, but that goes without saying. seating herself again, alisaie begins to gather the ice carefully into the rag, tying it off. ]
no subject
His teeth chatter as he stammers: ]
Geez, it's f-freezin' in here...
[ And she's gonna put ice on him still?! ]
no subject
[ she murmurs, gently, in the best bedside tone she can muster, and with the bundle tightly tied off she leans forward to slip it beneath his neck, right up at the base of his skull. ]
I know it is uncomfortable, but it is important to keep your temperature from climbing too high.
[ and that whole sweating out a fever thing is nonsense, so he can't pull that on her!! she takes the opportunity to tug the blankets off of his feet as well, and it doesn't take long before she spots his wristband. why is he still wearing it? it's thick and wide, and joints pool heat, so she's tugging at that as well, hooking her fingers beneath it. ]
Off with this sweaty thing, too, you must needs keep your wrists cool.
no subject
In an instant, his lethargy seems to vanish, replaced swiftly with a sharp panic that courses through him like electricity. His other hand snaps quickly over her own, his grasp ungentle, his breath rattling around in chest as he reaches for words that would not come to him easily at the best of times. How can he tell her...without telling her? How can he stop her? But he must. He must. ]
P-please, don't.
[ He...he isn't ready for her to see. ]
no subject
at first, she does not know what to say, she can only gawp at him in surprise, her eyes wide and unsure, her posture stiff and unmoving. she makes no further attempt to pry at the band, but it is clear enough that she is.. absolutely flummoxed. it is only a wristband. is it special to him, somehow? mayhaps it was a gift? still, even were it sentimental to him in some way, that response was quite extreme. ]
I-
[ she starts, her mouth working, a crease in her brow. ]
I shan't lose it - we can put it aside, in your nightstand.
no subject
Shame burns hot and deep beneath his skin, and his gaze drops from hers to some distant corner of the room. What must she think of him now, reacting so irrationally to something so...meaningless? Would it...still be meaningless, if she knew? Maybe. It...hardly matters here. This isn't Eos. The names of Lucis and Niflheim mean nothing to her. And that's on him, too — he's told her so woefully little about his world, asked so little about her own in return, and why, why, why after everything he's been through and learned, can he not just...let it go?
Because it's easier this way. It's safe. It's familiar. When he's a fun, lovable jokester, he doesn't have to worry about putting his heart on the line, of revealing all the cracked and broken parts of himself. He doesn't have to worry about his real self being rejected. But he'd been so determined to move past this. Before...
Before coming here. Before Noctis and Gladio and Ignis had all forgotten about everything that happened after Altissia. Heh...how selfish is he? To let something like that hold him back?
He's so ashamed.
Slowly, his hand draws back, bottom lip between his teeth, dug in deep. ]
Please. Just...leave it on. Please.
no subject
her heart sinks, something soft and subtle stabbing at her gut.
was it not he who was so vehement that they be open with one another? he who urged her to never be afraid to speak to him, as she had urged him? what is it that he is hiding from her? it must be something great, something terrible, something enormous, and a part of her can't help but feel marginally.. betrayed that he has hidden it from her, that he hides it still.
but that is a selfish feeling. this is not about her. none of it is. besides, he.. is a friend, certainly, a companion and a comrade, but that is all. he has no obligation to her, no need to divulge anything more than what he chooses to, and so she has no right to be upset or hurt by any secrets he might keep. no doubt he has plenty. this should not bother her. she lets it go, pushes it back and, swallowing thickly, nods her head and draws her hands away. he's certainly made himself perfectly clear, and she will pry no further - she never has. ]
All right.
[ she says, a hollow ring in her voice, but she's quick to move again, on her feet, keeping her hands busy gathering up the empty soup bowl. ]
I will.. um - I will leave the ice for you, should you feel you need more. I-I know that you feel cold, but you must needs try to keep your temperature down. I shall look in on you later.
no subject
And yet here he is, unable to tell someone so deeply important to him, continuing to hide away the depths of his heart from her. He hates it, and yet, he is still more afraid that he will lose everything if he tells her the truth.
Will he ever be able to move on from this?
The voices of doubt within his own mind feel insurmountable, and though Prompto opens his mouth to ask her to stay, the words just don't come. He has no right to ask that of her. Not now. Not after...all that.
She's already done more than enough, and he just...takes and takes and gives nothing back. ]
Okay. [ He mutters, low and quiet and hoarse, his energy all but spent now. ] Um...thanks again.
[ It sounds hollow, but he really doesn't know what else to say. All he wants to do is curl into a ball and sleep and hide himself away, and maybe dream of a place where he isn't so broken. ]
no subject
Of course. You needn't thank me.
[ even helping in the smallest, most pointless of ways, is still helping..
but with the bowl gathered up and prompto as comfortable as she can make him, she clears her throat and retreats toward the door, halting for a moment to turn and look him over one final time. hopefully he takes her advice and doesn't pull his hands and feed right back under the covers once she's gone. ]
Do not be afraid to message me should you need anything.