Dreaming Entanglement [Liltotto, Alastair]

Anxiety raked her floating mental state, a white hot pain gashing her mind as her darkened hand had been forced to touch that which was beyond it. But there was no pain, no screaming - the only thing she felt was her hand, safely in his own. Her cringing shut eyes had eased open, almost in unexpressed disbelief, only to come to stare at what she felt.

That conflict of desire was gone - she wanted to wake up. Light entered her eyes finally, an intense shimmer growing; Tears. She felt so sick and hurting, but the relief that washed over her was insurmountable. Though she did not pull a smile, her tearful eyes were enough to convey what she must have been feeling. That breath of air, after being held just beneath the surface, was painful.

Tears turned to sniffing, turned to a whimper... Then the downpour began. A heaving sob labored every breath, her fingers gently clasping around the Grandmaster's hand. She hadn't worked herself into crying this hard.. Ever, in all her life. But she couldn't help it, her heart was heavy by everything. The swirling darkness that engulfed the room began to slowly recede, her other hand gripped over her chest as her grip was firm, as if she feared it would vanish if she so much as loosened it a little - she just wanted that reminder this was real, that she was safe, to remain.

There she was, buried beneath that layer of soot and yet just as brilliant as the last time he had seen her. What could have been a black star now withering before the light of a rising sun, her darkness consumed quite eagerly by the mere presence of Alastair until there was little left but that which she clutched into her chest. His other hand moved to cover her own, holding her there in a position that was not quite an awkward embrace.

He did not speak yet, though he was rarely a man of many words even under nicer circumstances, content to wait for her to gather herself as the weight of all that pent-up tension finally began to ease. It was not the first time he had seen such a look and, despite his best efforts, it would not be the last. For all her years, Liltotto was still as fragile as anyone else beneath the surface. It was nothing to be ashamed of, perhaps on another day it might even comfort her with the thought that she could so easily relate to her peers.

Even Alastair remembered the sensation, though it felt like a foreign memory in his mind. A vision of a different man from the one that sat before her today, who had faced different trials and made different choices. If there was any envy for that version of himself, it was imperceptible upon his face as he continued to stand at her bedside and wait.

That was truly the hardest she'd ever allow herself to cry in the cover of her existence, breathing darkness having slowly retreated until there was finally a warmly lit room left, those festering emotions brought to wake and spill without judgement or push. The cool yet steadfast attitude of the Grandmaster was appreciated, desired even - it would have been much harder to wake or speak otherwise.

As her sobs subsided, a brief bit of humor cut into her pained state, some of that lackluster shimmer having returned to her dull yellow eyes, "..Stone-faced as ever, huh?" A sigh escaped her, "Good."

Hunger and lethargy wracked her flesh, but she put aside those base desires for now - she had to. She was certain this was real, this was consistent... And she hadn't lost herself. Though, she did feel an incredible twist of the heart, as if it was going to rip at the seams..

"..I have a foolish request," Her droning tone would return, as she'd wipe tears from her face, "...Could I have a hug? Even a small one... I don't know, I just want one... Maybe it'd... Help... My head's a mess."

Her moment of humour did, unfortunately, wash over the Grandmaster like he was a stone amid the ocean. He did wish that it did not in moments like this, but a single outburst could not burst this dam and his ability to display emotion remained quite lacklustre. She did manage to draw the slightest of smiles from him, as slender as it was, before he released her hands from his own and invited her in for that desired embrace.

Again, it was not yet the time for words. Whatever hell she had endured, he had no intention of forcing her to dig it up no sooner than she was free of it. Instead, he did what any decent person would do, and tried to simply be here for her. Alastair had grown accustomed to this amount of intimacy in the past few years, a far cry from the boy scout who had left the Fatherland with little more in his head than a dream, so he did not rush for her to break it off either. He was content enough that she was here, now, rather than trapped someplace else within herself.

If she pressed in closer, Liltotto might find that Alastair was quite pleasantly warm. More so than one might expect a person to be but far from the point of discomfort, a soothing heat that he held close to him even now.