[ He hums, thoughtful, and then launches into the first leg of an Orlesian version of Hans in Luck—more because it’s one he likes himself than because he thinks she would. She won’t remember anyway, and he only makes it part way through before he pauses and waits in silence to see if she’s awake to protest stopping. ]
[ He’s reminded—not for the first time, but the first time that it truly twinges—that Athessa is Eliya’s age, if Eliya is even alive. He told her bedtime stories, a long time ago, on the odd night he was home to do it. ]
Good night, Athessa.
[ Even if she can’t hear him. Saying her name helps, like an anchor to the present, and he closes the crystalS’ connection and falls asleep not long after. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ She's mumbling now, because she finally closed her eyes instead of fighting to keep them open. ]
We can bring your... ravens... feather bed...
no subject
Aw. ]
Oh course.
Are you sleeping now?
no subject
[ She is. ]
Mmnh.
[ Or is she? ]
no subject
Do you want me to tell you a story?
no subject
Yes please, [ is a generous translation of what really is just more mumbling. ]
no subject
no subject
no subject
Good night, Athessa.
[ Even if she can’t hear him. Saying her name helps, like an anchor to the present, and he closes the crystalS’ connection and falls asleep not long after. ]