[Stephen finally sits, the bench creaking dimly in protest. He swirls his wine around in the glass, looking at Yennefer, perplexed by the sudden stillness in her features.
She speaks from familiarity, and could that meanβ?]
And then, waking up, it was like all of those so-called βdreamsβ were real.
[He knows they were. His memories and Wandaβs lined up perfectly, all that pain and trauma and fear, there for them both. Receiving, giving, making it all the more complicated here and now.]
Hey. [He scoots a foot out, bumps his ankle gently against hers. A casual, friendly gesture of a degree so rarely seen from Stephen; but Yen is one the few who would wrangle it out of him when his concern dares to shift towards her, instead.] Donβt tell me the same thing happened to you.
no subject
She speaks from familiarity, and could that meanβ?]
And then, waking up, it was like all of those so-called βdreamsβ were real.
[He knows they were. His memories and Wandaβs lined up perfectly, all that pain and trauma and fear, there for them both. Receiving, giving, making it all the more complicated here and now.]
Hey. [He scoots a foot out, bumps his ankle gently against hers. A casual, friendly gesture of a degree so rarely seen from Stephen; but Yen is one the few who would wrangle it out of him when his concern dares to shift towards her, instead.] Donβt tell me the same thing happened to you.