[Oh, that's . . . nice, actually. The brush of his fingers and the way he squeezes her and the warmth of his body as they settle beneath the sheets, all combining together to make something . . . mm. Not quite intimate, but comfortable. She'd been a little uncertain at the start of all this, but now Rosalind feels relaxed, utterly so. The wind whips outside, cold and harsh, but she feels . . .
Safe, she realizes, and it's a stunning realization. She feels safe, and more importantly, she doesn't feel alone. Here she is and here she'll stay til morning, all because he's fond of her.
It's something she hasn't felt in six months, not since Robert left her side, and she's loath to fall asleep and chase it away. So though her eyes are eager to close, Rosalind yawns and squirms, tipping her head back to push against his fingers.]
Well. If you won't tell me a story, I'll tell you one, hm? About . . . hmm. I suppose I was asking you for a fairy story; you might hear one from my world. Or something from my past, pick one of the two.
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Safe, she realizes, and it's a stunning realization. She feels safe, and more importantly, she doesn't feel alone. Here she is and here she'll stay til morning, all because he's fond of her.
It's something she hasn't felt in six months, not since Robert left her side, and she's loath to fall asleep and chase it away. So though her eyes are eager to close, Rosalind yawns and squirms, tipping her head back to push against his fingers.]
Well. If you won't tell me a story, I'll tell you one, hm? About . . . hmm. I suppose I was asking you for a fairy story; you might hear one from my world. Or something from my past, pick one of the two.