[ The voice, no matter how broken or hoarse, is one she’s committed to memory. Something thrums inside of her, pushing against the wall she’s been using to cope with everything awful, pushing her to break. Hilda rushes around the corner locating Sylvain in an instant and is by his side. Her hands shake as she lowers herself to the ground to gingerly move his head into her lap.
She knows that the Horizon isn’t real. She knows he isn’t really here with her, but it’s enough. Is it really though? He’s alive — but at what cost? She can’t soothe him here, she can’t pull him close in an attempt to force him to sleep, nor can she try to find something to ease whatever pain he’s in. Something akin to a whimper, the first real sign of distress she’s voiced in days, escapes her lips as she takes stock of his state and injuries. ]
Sylvain? [ A forced laugh leaves her lips as she brushes back some of his hair, not so dissimilar from the night she slept in his bed. Apparently her fallback is taking a page out of Claude’s book and trying to distill humour into a very unfunny situation. ] If this is your way of telling me I was a real brat for getting mad at you for not replying to me, I don’t like it.
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She knows that the Horizon isn’t real. She knows he isn’t really here with her, but it’s enough. Is it really though? He’s alive — but at what cost? She can’t soothe him here, she can’t pull him close in an attempt to force him to sleep, nor can she try to find something to ease whatever pain he’s in. Something akin to a whimper, the first real sign of distress she’s voiced in days, escapes her lips as she takes stock of his state and injuries. ]
Sylvain? [ A forced laugh leaves her lips as she brushes back some of his hair, not so dissimilar from the night she slept in his bed. Apparently her fallback is taking a page out of Claude’s book and trying to distill humour into a very unfunny situation. ] If this is your way of telling me I was a real brat for getting mad at you for not replying to me, I don’t like it.