Skellig does not move much from his position in the chair, other than to rinse his body of the bloodstains (both hers and those of the men they fought) and to gratefully accept her offerings of food and drink (he leaves plenty to share between them, but he did not realize just how hungry he was) as she busies herself with taking care of things.
He feels as if she should also be resting, given that he just dug an arrow out of her shoulder, but he's too tired to argue.
With his bare feet on the floor, he focuses on letting his body adjust to the rhythm of the Karma he can feel moving through the packed dirt beneath him, closing his eyes as he drinks. A rustle of fabric catches his attention (his hearing is improving, in this space) and he cracks one eye open, glancing at her.
She is changing from her bloodied kilt, her body turned away from him. One version of him, in another life or timeline, would have turned his gaze away from her form. This is not that version, and he does not stare...but he does not turn his head, either.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-03-23 02:57 am (UTC)He feels as if she should also be resting, given that he just dug an arrow out of her shoulder, but he's too tired to argue.
With his bare feet on the floor, he focuses on letting his body adjust to the rhythm of the Karma he can feel moving through the packed dirt beneath him, closing his eyes as he drinks. A rustle of fabric catches his attention (his hearing is improving, in this space) and he cracks one eye open, glancing at her.
She is changing from her bloodied kilt, her body turned away from him. One version of him, in another life or timeline, would have turned his gaze away from her form. This is not that version, and he does not stare...but he does not turn his head, either.