abraxaslogs | ( catch-all ) the more that i see myself

Entry tags:

( catch-all ) the more that i see myself

Who: Hilda & various!
When: September/October
Where: Cadens, the Horizon
What: Things, stuff, the usual but definitely not Hilda bored out of her mind recovering in bed. Also there's a mean moogle in her domain.
Warnings: Might be mention of injuries, but warnings will be added as needed.

( open and closed starters below. wildcards encouraged!
if you want something specific, let me know by hitting me up on discord or plurk! )

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[ As Blake finds his way in, he catches Hilda's bedridden state well before he sees her blush. It turns him pale in many ways, and as if all the blood's rushed out of his body, he has to steady himself as he holds a finger to his lips and rushes up to the bedside. ]

Had to practically sneak in as it is. God, Hil—

[ Blake's own injury — deep, but short lacerations from the Demogorgon's claws — is suitably covered and hidden away under his sleeves, but its presence reminds him not to be a hypocrite. ]

Wasn't sure what'd happened and I— God, I thought you might've died—!

[ The only way he's going to be allowed to stay and assess Hilda's state is by behaving himself, so he will remain on his absolute best behavior as he reaches out to try to take Hilda's hand. ]

[ Now is definitely, absolutely not the time for her to make an awful joke about how she almost did die. The degree to which Sylvain and Claude have hovered over her and the number of bandages that wrap around her body is clear indication of that. Coming to terms with a near-death experience is a difficult thing. A strange thing. And while she's had time to process a death that she apparently dies in a parallel timeline, that isn't quite the same as actually living one out.

There's no time to dwell on something like that however as the blush on her cheeks deepen at the realization that it's Blake rushing to her bedside. Without thinking her fingers immediately tangle with his. ]

I'm okay. It's okay!

[ Does she look and sound reassuring even with the exposed bandages snaking up her neck? She hopes that the relieved smile on her own face is enough to distract from that fact. ]

I'm right here. You have nothing to worry about, silly.

[ His other hand closes around their entwined fingers, squeezing gently as he tries not to dwell on Hilda's wounds. He can't recall ever seeing her so weak, and he's certainly never seen her laid up like this, but despite all of that, Hilda tries to soothe him.

He swallows and offers a reassuring smile, nodding. ]

Yeah, of course. Back on your feet in no time, yeah?

[ Blake looks down at their hands and checks on Hilda's nails. ]

You got a file handy? Bet you could use a little pamperin' while you tell me what's up.

[ The pallor of her skin is still far from what it normally is but she still tries to inject as much brightness into her smile as she can. ]

Obviously. A little summer cold isn't going to keep me down.

[ It's all her playing pretend of course: pretending like she hadn't almost died, pretending that her throat hadn't almost been split from end to end or that her ribs had been broken in several places is much easier when the person sitting in her room is someone that she plays pretend with all the time. Easy to imagine then that when he turns his attention to her hands her expression softens. ]

Do I have a file handy? [ She scoffs. ] Of course I do!

[ Hilda motions over to the vanity that is looking far cleaner than it has in a while. Its orderly nature is thanks in part to the fact that she had only recently returned to living at the loft instead of ping-ponging between makeshifts beds at the Old Public Hall and Cyprian's attic, and partly because she hasn't been seated at it in several days. The various bottles and make up haven't had a chance to be disturbed.

Hopefully it gives off the impression that she's far neater than she actually is. ]

There should be one over there.

[ There's no hesitance while he investigates the vanity, fingers trailing over things that very much remind him of Hilda. This close he can smell products vaguely reminiscent of her and see all the things she would be using on a regular basis. Seizing the file, he drags the nearest seat-able surface to the edge of the bed and takes her hand, squeezing it gently before inspecting for places that could use a little extra care. ]

Pretty sure I don't gotta tell you this, but I've been... an asshole. And I'm sorry.

[ The straightforward apology comes with a gentle frown and he wipes his thumb over the edge of her fingernail, satisfied and ready to move on to the next. ]

[ It doesn’t even occur to Hilda that Blake is taking in her mostly clean vanity and connecting objects to pieces of her that she doesn’t think anyone pays much attention to. Just because she puts a lot of thought and pride into her perfume choice doesn’t mean that anyone else is paying that much attention to it.

By the time he’s by her side again, she gives him another reassuring squeeze in return before settling back against the pillows. Part of her is ready to launch into mindless chatter to fill the silence, but Blake surprises her instead.

There’s a moment of silence before she pipes up. ]

You’ve had a lot going on, Blakey.

[ It’s not an absolution, but it isn’t a dismissal either. ]

We both have.

[ He doesn't want to accept Hilda's part in any of this, even if she wants to claim some of the blame. While the root of that might have once been self-deprecation, right now it's feels much more like he's taking responsibility. That's what he hopes, anyway, as he continues his careful inspection and gentle restoration of a smooth and rounded nail. ]

I got a breath of fresh air. Like... comin' up to the surface after a long dive. Hope it lasts.

[ It's hard to want to say depression, just like it's hard to want to guarantee his success in coming out from under it, but he knows that Hilda understands much more about him than most people in the Free Cities. And she cares, so he tries. ]

How 'bout you? This looks— pretty wild. You gonna be okay?

[ They could go around in circles like this apologizing, trying to carry the blame for their wrong doings even though the other insists that they're somehow more at fault. She's well aware of that and she catches herself before she nudges them further down that spiral. Focusing on Blake's dedicated efforts to her hands is a welcome distraction.

She hums in quiet commiseration. Depression isn't even really a term that they use or have in Fodlan; it isn't something she had learned about until recently, but she understands the feeling of coming back up to the surface after feeling like you've been submerged for so long. ]

Well, even if it doesn't, you know you can always come to me, right? [ She offers him a gentle smile. Everything that happened is water under the bridge as far as she's concerned. ] You aren't alone here, Blakey.

[ She had said it before back in Aquila and she'll gently remind him again. No, "I told you so" tone, no chiding. Just a firm, but gentle reminder that everyone needed every once in a while. It's something she needs reminding of as of late. Her own submersion had probably been for different reasons than Blake, but it had in some ways been self-inflicted. Not that she wants to dwell on it. She's back to her old cheeky self, dramatic as ever. ]

If you're talking about my hands, I'm not sure I'll ever recover. Although now that you're here they might have a fighting chance.

I'm not the only one that's good at avoidin' the subject, I guess. But fine, yeah, there's a fightin' chance for these guys now that I'm here. Learned from the best, didn't I?

[ But it doesn't stop the worry or the feeling that all of them could be doing more to protect themselves or each other. Simply because there's a war to be fought doesn't necessitate their involvement, and yet they're involved again and again. Given what amount to little choice, because no one seems like the type to let people suffer when something can be done.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

He sets Hilda's hand down carefully and returns back to her desk to search for a few other items, mainly a moisturizer. A couple sniffs leaves him mostly appeased as he sits back down. ]

Heard you were fightin'. I— saw how you fight, but sometimes— Well, I don't want people I care about bein' hurt. It might've come off a little like I was thinkin' you couldn't handle yourself, but— Well, maybe I hoped you were spared havin' to.

Point bein', I know we're all better off together, takin' care of each other. I do. It's just not how I'm used to things goin'. And I don't wanna feel like I can't help people, 'cause I can. And some people don't need help and that's okay, too.

It's— a lotta "new" for me. I've been on my own for a long time, Hil.

[ She’s a master at dancing around subjects she doesn’t want to talk about - school work, chores, sad topics, a life-threatening injury, feelings. Sometimes it’s a knee jerk response at inappropriate times and she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt prick at her cheeks when Blake says what she’s sure is meant to be a throw away comment.

Silence stretches between them as he goes in search of something else and she finds it difficult to keep her levity buoyant. As he returns and begins his work again she thinks she might have plucked up enough courage to say something, to apologize or tell him how she was really feeling when he pipes up.

There could have been any number of moments when he had seen her fighting which is horrifying to think and it shows on her face. What speaks louder than her embarrassment however is how tender and caring Blake’s heart is despite everything he’s been through himself.

There’s so much she still doesn’t know about him but the loneliness he speaks of is probably nestled deep into the marrow of his bones, and she can only imagine how accepting help can be hard for people like him because they’ve never been shown it or now how to accept it.

Before he begins the next steps in this manicure, she plucks the moisturizer from his hands before encompassing both of them in hers. ]

New can be scary — I mean, who tells you what to do when you’re sucked into a totally new world? Learning how to accept it is even scarier. And I know that running in the other direction sometimes is the easier choice and there’s nothing wrong with that but you’re being so brave facing it head on. It’s more than what a lot of people would do if they were in your shoes. It’s more than I would do.

[ She gives him another squeeze. ]

What I’m trying to say is, that I admire you, Blakey. You and that big soft heart of yours. And I’m so lucky that you’re willing to spend so much of your time with me.

[ There is no telling when the blush will abate. At this point, it may not seep entirely from his face until he's managed to slink back out of the room and is no longer letting those sweet words rattle around in his head. ]

Honestly, Hilda, it's 'cause of you that I'm any bit back to bein' myself these days. Did you know back when we met what trouble I'd be? Pretty sure you did, but— Well, it doesn't change the fact that you've been good for me. Despite how hard I've tried runnin' the other way.

[ He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing away the fluttering in his gut. ]

Still work to be done, but I'm tryin'. We all are. And maybe it's that indominability that's brought us here. Best guess I've got, anyway. We're special 'cause we know better'n to give up.

[ His compliment is met with a tittering laugh, filling her with just the smallest amount of hesitancy. Doling out compliments is as easy as breathing for Hilda. Accepting them? That might as well be the equivalent of bitter-tasting medicine. Compliments were often tied to expectation, at least they always had in her mind. She didn't want people getting the wrong idea, the wrong impression that she was above average at anything whether that be keeping someone out of trouble or wielding an axe. Her shoulders were dainty and couldn't possibly hold the weight of that.

But she can't dismiss him. Can't dissuade him from thinking otherwise when he meant so much to her, and especially when he's being so sincere. ]

I might have had an idea. Do you see my roommates?

[ Trouble may as well have been their middle names. But it's clear that if she really had a problem with it, she wouldn't keep any of them as company. Gently she untangles a hand, reaching out to brush back some of the wayward curls from his face. ]

That means that the day you really stop trying is the day that I really have to be worried. Or scold you. [ The corners of her eyes crinkle in a smile. ] Maybe both. So try not to do that to me, okay? I hate cardio.

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( catch-all ) the more that i see myself

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