𝐄𝐮𝐥𝐚 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (
vergeltung) wrote in
sempiternals2023-01-07 10:13 pm
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softer than rain, harder than pain | @dawnbreaked
[ Trusting him was a mistake.
It was easier when she was a free agent, not having to worry about anyone else, focusing only on what she needed, what her company needed, working on a professional and not personal level, keeping her distance from others and letting them keep their distance from her.
It was lonely, but it was easier.
As a free agent, for example, she never would have been pacing the kitchen of the Dawn Winery with clenched fists and burning eyes, trying not to just snap and break something while Diluc's staff tend to him behind closed doors, caring for him through an unconsciousness going on at least a few hours now. She wouldn't be trembling with the cold horror of her Vision's resonance, nor dealing with tears she's unable to hide, sparkling as they are like diamonds frosted to her eyelashes. It wouldn't have been her for whom Kaeya came running, grave anxiety written over his face, tears of his own evident in the redness of his eyes and cheeks despite his attempts to hide them; she wouldn't have even known this was happening—
Somehow the thought does nothing to ease her churning, angry stomach. Eula closes her eyes and cups a hand over her mouth, convinced for a moment she's going to vomit. The free hand waves away whatever staff member it is who's trying to comfort her— she doesn't know these people, not enough for this— before coming to rest on the counter in front of her. She can feel the anxiety trembling through her skin where it contacts the furniture.
I swear, Ragnvindr, she thinks, a tight hold on the counter as if that will somehow make it better, if you get through this I'm going to kill you myself.
...
He'd better get through this. ]
It was easier when she was a free agent, not having to worry about anyone else, focusing only on what she needed, what her company needed, working on a professional and not personal level, keeping her distance from others and letting them keep their distance from her.
It was lonely, but it was easier.
As a free agent, for example, she never would have been pacing the kitchen of the Dawn Winery with clenched fists and burning eyes, trying not to just snap and break something while Diluc's staff tend to him behind closed doors, caring for him through an unconsciousness going on at least a few hours now. She wouldn't be trembling with the cold horror of her Vision's resonance, nor dealing with tears she's unable to hide, sparkling as they are like diamonds frosted to her eyelashes. It wouldn't have been her for whom Kaeya came running, grave anxiety written over his face, tears of his own evident in the redness of his eyes and cheeks despite his attempts to hide them; she wouldn't have even known this was happening—
Somehow the thought does nothing to ease her churning, angry stomach. Eula closes her eyes and cups a hand over her mouth, convinced for a moment she's going to vomit. The free hand waves away whatever staff member it is who's trying to comfort her— she doesn't know these people, not enough for this— before coming to rest on the counter in front of her. She can feel the anxiety trembling through her skin where it contacts the furniture.
I swear, Ragnvindr, she thinks, a tight hold on the counter as if that will somehow make it better, if you get through this I'm going to kill you myself.
...
He'd better get through this. ]
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Kaeya had noted though with much stress and panic that it near looked as if it were a hydro Lector which made it worse knowing the match up was miserable. Regardless there was some manner of hope between everyone there, even Adelinde who accepted Eula was not going to welcome her attempts at calming her down though much more understanding of what was happening.
By the time it reached the five hour mark, his door was unlocked with each of them now leaving down to the kitchen with some manner of relief and word that he had awakened. This time with words mentioning that as surprising as the ambush had been that he would not be leaving this encounter with new scars. Something which made Adelinde feel relief knowing that were it like before, Diluc would have stubbornly fought onward.
Though while they were busy telling Eula and the others the news, Diluc himself found himself staring at the ceiling as if he failed something. Unintentional with the bandages around his abdominal area and back, but he still failed her. The bandages were mainly meant to cover his back since that had been where the strikes were at during a moment of what he had thought would be reprieve only for it to not be the case.
Truthfully he wouldn't blame her for wanting to kill him and to leave him again after he messed up a promise he made to try and be careful. He felt as if he did worse by not being able to predict their movements; by not being able to realize that it was an ambush meant for him as his fire filled eyes close. A manner of sorrow in his expression with tears of his own building to the point he had yet to realize the door was opening.
Far too distracted by not keeping his promise even if he didn't expect this to be what had been awaiting him for something that should have been simple after a few weeks of things being calm. A few weeks of them adjusting further no less. It's funny. Were this like before he'd have been unconscious for longer, more injured, more at risk of dying and burning out his flame.)
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Despite her best efforts though, the tears start the moment the door is closed safely behind her, and even as long strides take her to the bed, her voice is sharp, strident even as it breaks and cracks over the words: ]
You promised me you'd be careful, Ragnvindr, do you have any idea—
[ Catching sight of the vacant, sorrowful way he stares at the ceiling, Eula's words die in her throat. Somehow, without him needing to say anything, she knows already: he tried. He tried to be more careful, tried not to get hurt... He didn't just throw himself at the enemy like he had in the past, heedless with his own rage and vengeance in mind. It wasn't what he had planned, not this time— something happened out of his control.
After hours of worry, it's not enough to kill the ice-cold fury, but it's enough to dull it somewhat, soften it as she takes him in through blurry eyes. ]
I'm so mad at you. [ The words are said through tears, without the bite of anger that punctuated every syllable just moments before. ]
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That much is manageable, seeing her like this simply causes him to look down at sensing her fury knowing that he put her through suffering without meaning to.
Worrying about him even after he tried to say he'd do his best to avoid injuries, worrying about if he's okay or not even as he in his own vengeful state tries to avoid an early death for the sake of her. It's why he can't help his silence but there's nothing stopping him from sitting up despite himself, forcing himself to his feet and just collapsing against her after shakily making his way to her.
He says nothing and yet the action itself might be clear; he wants simply to bury into her and apologize however he must. He shouldn't be moving or doing this but he makes himself do it by choice, with hands clinging to her almost as if she's the lifeline that he's scared most of losing even if he didn't show the full extent of it last time.
His body aches.
However, that's something he didn't want to focus on whenever she's right in front of him and whenever he wants nothing more than to not feel as if he failed her more by making her so angry.
By making her tear up like this.)
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Archons, Ragnvindr... [ There's disbelief in her tone, enough to keep the trembles and breaks out of her voice for a moment at least, and she's able to focus on getting him back to the bed. When she forces him back down, though, she moves to sit on the edge of the bed next to him, allowing him to continue to rest against her— despite the frustration and hurt and anger she's feeling, she knows he needs this right now. The emotion, though, leaks back into her voice when she keeps talking, scolding him without any anger: ] Don't be an idiot. You're hurt. You need to rest, not...
[ She shakes her head, fresh tears in her eyes and very suddenly on her cheeks as she reaches up to touch his face. ]
You scared the hell out of me, you know.
[ And yes, she's still mad. But when his answer to her anger is to do stupid things like that, she has to at least try to keep her head. ]
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All due to this happening to him. But it's her words and her taking hold of his face that he finds himself maybe melting a little. There's nothing much he can do or say, nothing much he can bring himself to say or do even as he looks at her with regret over his current state pouring into it. He wanted very much to return safely this time as he's always done for her as of late, perhaps it's why unable to help himself he whispers softly:) I'm sorry... (His voice even still near cracks despite himself. Gods, if anyone else were seeing this they'd wonder what happened to Diluc to make him into an emotional wreck.
Normally he didn't let anyone see this side of him again but she's long since earned that right. The right to see him in his highs and lows just as he's earned with her, both of which different in their own ways about it with how he leans into her hand with it being a small miracle he didn't open his stitches back up.
He would have likely been scolded if that happened and he knows it even now.) I really am sorry...
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Stop apologizing. Just...
[ She shakes her head; suddenly lost for words, she instead wraps both her arms around him, the movement gentle and careful— she doesn't want to reopen the stitched wounds or cause him any additional pain, especially now that he's potentially caused some issues by moving as suddenly as he did. ]
Just...
[ Her own voice cracks again, and Eula presses her lips into his hair so that he doesn't see her face crumple the way she knows it's about to. All she can think about now that he's in her arms is how fragile his normally strong build feels against her— how frighteningly close she came to losing him.
(And later, later when she's not an emotional, anxious wreck over this, she'll wonder about that, wonder about the fact that somehow he's become instrumental to her, important enough that even the thought of losing him takes her to pieces.) ]
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He doesn't know how she came to be so important to him, it's odd, he near losses himself again had he chose to stay and fight yet he was more worried about her being hurt by that happening. By the thought of her losing him with him now after a time thinking over what to do next. His hair this time has been taken down for now; with him just looking at her as best as he can from their current positions.
Maybe it's why wordlessly he simply for now as his head starts to buzz around again with comments on how giving himself to her is a mistake, involving his injuries, he finds himself mustering up the energy to just kiss her. The desperation nowhere near leaning into a need to be physical but simply a wish to just kiss her, to just feel her lips and know that she'll be okay.
To make the thoughts in his head stop for now without pushing into territories that it has before with his sheets often times being replaced or cleaning being a necessity. He's not in any state to go that far anyway nor is he going to push it beyond a need just to have her lips and her there; as long as she could be knowing that this was on such short notice.
And really him knowing that she has her duties. The staff at least did welcome her there which came as a relief to him whenever they took small steps, even Adelinde was thankful for the support she's getting in keeping Diluc from being stupid. Though he has a feeling she'd be unhappy if she found out he got up the way he did.)
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(and isn't that funny, how she is fighting against his guilt rather than for it, when her usual code would demand that he pay for how he's made her worry)
—but he seems focused on pressing his mouth to hers, a quiet desperation in the action, and for a second she feels like she should pull back, not encourage this, but there's something about this, the way he seems to need it, that keeps her against him. And so her eyes sink shut, freeing the tears that slip down her cheeks, and her hands come up— one to cup his cheek, the other to lay flat against his chest.
She wants to wrap her arms around him, pull him closer, but with his injuries she doesn't dare. Instead, she answers the kiss with a desperation of her own; like him, she's not seeking physicality— to the contrary, she wants him to feel how much she needs him, how grateful she is that he's back... how afraid she was for a moment that he wouldn't make it. ]
If it gets to be too much, [ she murmurs, not breaking away from him even as she talks, ] just tell me. I don't want... [ No, it's too much to explain like this. She just has to hope that he'll understand. ] Mm, never mind.
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Injuries aside he did instead pull her closer to him as if having a feeling she might want to be but refraining. Gods, he can't believe he's this lost, this desperate to have to give some manner of action to tell her that he's more than feeling guilty perhaps but just more relieved that he got to see once more her again.
That he's not dead somewhere or being dragged off into being tortured potentially until he dies or winds up coming out something no longer himself.
All thoughts very real, very terrifying, but he can't say that it'd stop him still from seeking his own revenge or doing what he must to obtain it while not leaving her devastated by the end results. He didn't want her to think that he's that pathetic to not only break promises but to genuinely ignore himself more after telling her that he'd do what he must for her sake too.)
... if you meant... due to my injuries, I'll tell you. (Otherwise if she meant more than that even if he's not breaking away as he murmured that, it isn't as if he finds her overwhelming anyway. She actually has been far better for him than he likes to admit out loud since that means admitting his feelings go deeper than he wants to say.)
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Of course I meant due to your injuries. [ The words are half-laughing, half-scolding, maybe coming out with just a touch of disbelief as well, Eula breaking the kiss just for long enough to look at him with a wideness to her yellow-purple eyes that shows off the way they glimmer with the tears not already falling down her face.
Another shake of her head, and both her hands cup his cheeks now, touching, as if confirming he's real. ]
I'm so angry with you.
[ She says it again, and again there's no real anger in her voice, just relief, something a little broken as she leans in to press her mouth to his once more, letting his mouth swallow the sob that tries to escape. ]
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Scolding and laughing, disbelief, he wasn't surprised that is her reaction once he finds himself leaning into her hands with a sort of sense melting a little from the touch given as if it's reminding himself that he's not dead or worse than dead by now. Otherwise there was a sense of feeling she'd have gone off chasing him to revive him or drag him out the Abyss at risk of both of them being tainted.
He'd prefer neither to happen too whenever she speaks again those words, that she's angry at him.)
... then let me have it. However you wish to...
(Because he's not going to stop her from pursuing letting this out toward him in whatever way she wants to knowing he can't help but want to express similar to say he's still here to her. That he isn't dying, that he would really just want to get lost in her kiss until his head stops with their mouths now back to being engulfed by the other. He won't comment on her sobbing for her sake too.)
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That doesn't mean she's not angry. But it at least keeps the anger stayed, held at bay until a more appropriate time for its release. ]
Just tell me... [ It's murmured against his lips, which taste by now of the salt from their shared tears. ] Tell me you were careful.
[ A confirmation. That's all she needs for now: a promise that confirms that which she already knows deep down, that he did what he could to take care of himself, that he wasn't careless. For now, it's enough; with that promise, she can lose herself in their kiss and let him take all the healing comfort he needs, until he can move around again without risking blowing open wounds that are still too fresh.
The rest can come later, once he's healed. ]
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Still, the thought aside he owes her an answer much as he hates the fact this happened to him. It wasn't the injury he hates but more that the promise he made had been at risk and even then he hates sitting still. Earlier honestly factored into it with him forcing himself out of bed; he didn't want to keep laying there.)
... I was... I hope you realize I hate sitting still too most. (Because it feels so agonizing to just lay there alone with eyes staring off into nothing or sleeping. It felt miserable.) But... I'll try not to get up and move. (Since that's all he can do; lay there and try not to move with an injury like that even as he speaks that into her lips.
As for now the last thing until he heals enough. He rather lose himself with her for the time being in a more restrained way. If he popped any of them due to pushing further she would not like that and he knows that; she wouldn't stand for that nor would she want to be the cause of it either.
Which is why he reminds himself in the kiss to hold himself back as if its a mantra. More for their sake together than strictly her own.)
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It doesn't matter what I'm doing. If you send someone for me, I'll come here. Even if it's just to make sure you don't leave this bed.
[ It's the closest she thinks she can get to telling him how important he is, how important this is. Even if he hates moving, he has to stay here, has to rest and look after himself, and if making that happen means that she leaves her duties in the hands of someone else for a day, she'll do it. ]
...And if there's anything you need done, tell me. I'll deal with that, as well.
[ It's the last thing she says before she finally kisses him again, this time softer and sweeter, without the urgency of before— the need to kiss, to touch, to feel him in one piece and assure herself he's okay— this time allowing her lips to work against his in a slow, tender ministration.
It's different today; whereas during the last few weeks their kisses have silenced her thoughts, right now they do nothing of the sort, only serving to remind her of how much danger he was in, tying her stomach in knots of emotion and anxiety. But at least for now, she tries not to let too much of that show, keeping it to herself. ]
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But there is something that he knows even as he gives her fingers tender yet slow kisses in the moment she pulls away for now. He knows how she gets enough. It's enough to make him want to remind her that it isn't as if he'd care if she wants to push him down and simply stay like this against him however much she needed; knowing that the anxiety was likely hitting her tenfold in comparison. Maybe it's why he decides to knowing this, to pull her as close as he can manage.
He can restrain himself anyway just as she can is his train of thought now.) ... even if it's not your anger coming out, do whatever you have to too. (To ease her anxieties is what he doesn't say, to let herself not feel it gnawing at her before their lips are back to working at one another with the desperation fading into something more bittersweet. Something more to reassure after this happened.
Although he only hopes that she doesn't completely try to ignore it with him simply letting a gentle sort of flame burn between them and nothing more as his own reminder that he's still there for her too.)
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In response to his words, he'll feel her smile, a tinge of bitter amusement at the corners of her mouth, because... hasn't she already let it all out? The salt on their lips is evidence of the number of tears she's shed, and while she managed to avoid breaking anything in the place, she's pretty sure there's a wall or two that might be a little more scuffed than it was before she arrived.
Apart from that, she's not really sure how many other ways she's meant to let her emotions out— despite the fact that there are so many of them milling and swirling and still making her feel sick with everything that's happened. And perhaps that's the danger of the ice wall. When you protect yourself from feeling anything for so long, the feelings when they do come seem insurmountable, like the tallest of tall mountains.
As few as three weeks ago, Eula would have just laughed and told him she was fine. But now, she finds herself murmuring against his lips, not wanting to break away, yet needing to tell him what's on her mind: ]
I'm not sure how.
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It's the salt of their tears, really the fact he can think of how she tends to be that way which causes him to worry she might hold them in more than just this. He isn't asking her to talk but if she has to let something out against him then he rather her not feel sick or near wanting to run, dive off a cliff, whatever she felt like to disappear with which is his worry.
Maybe it's why instead of breaking away he thinks in between their kisses knowing that he didn't want to pull away from either with soon enough one of his warm hands settling on her cheek while the other rests on her back. To cup her cheek and caress it slowly this time with affection meant for her as the gears turn in his head to her reply.)
... Eula, I'll be frank with you, if you want to push me down and just stay like this to let it out, you can, if you want to kiss me until your emotions start to ease, you can do that too. Just... don't hold it in, it's things that I want too as odd as that sounds from me.
(Because a little more time recovering if it meant she felt better with him is worth that hassle to him; she deserves the chance to be able to pull herself together just as he did to rest in some manner. Diluc would rather her know she has permission to do these things, whatever she has to, to let the rest of it out.)
Whatever you feel you have to do...
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Then lie down.
[ It's said softly, a gentleness to her tone as her fingers splay across his chest, a slight push of weight behind them. She waits, allowing him to get comfortable as he needs, letting him adjust his weight in a way that he won't be hurt just by lying down.
Only then does she follow him, moving to lie against him without putting her weight on him, lying at his side with her head turned into him, eyes closed as she breathes him in—
—and this close he still smells like blood, like the sickly sweet of the medicines used on his skin, and all at once there's a horrific feeling like she's going to be sick; she even turns her head away, swallowing hard against the rising gorge in an attempt to calm it, nails digging into her palms and eyes squeezing shut.
It lasts for several seconds, this abrupt attack of something, something Eula doesn't even understand, and then she bursts into silent tears once more, head hiding in the side of his chest as the tears cascade fresh down her cheeks. ]
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If anything he finds it better he doesn't smell like the Abyss or else this wouldn't have gone well. At least for a moment such as this.
There's a brief moment he worries this was the wrong move with wanting her to do what she feels she must to not hold it in, that is until he feels her tears against him. Maybe it's why for this moment of silence between them his lips brush against her crown, her hair as carefully as he can to not cause her to scold him for being stupid again knowing he has to watch it.
So he chooses to keep her close and to take her own scent in as if to remind himself that he's not dead or dying. He's not leaving her. The thoughts which slowly began to ease but he knew that he simply wants to not see her destroy herself by letting her stay so deep in her head it'd do little good.
He doesn't try to give words to this emotion between them, but he's certain that it's deeper than they know or realize. Diluc can only say he'll think more of it later, he doesn't want to focus on that when she needs him more.)
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Not that she's really focusing on the worry right now. What's on her mind is rather a flurry of things, thoughts she's not sure she could successfully explain even if given a thousand words and pictures to go with them; there's a lot, and they're uncomfortable, leave her feeling sick and like she wants to just cry and scream and break things until there's nothing left to break.
The lips on her crown, though, they're somehow soothing— and there's a hot flush of shame that runs through her in the very next moment, temporarily displacing the other thoughts even as the tears keep running down her cheeks, the sobs continue to catch in her throat.
When she speaks, her voice is rough, thick with the tears and broken as her lungs attempt to force sobs of quick breath, movements she herself tries to prevent. ]
I'm— I'm sorry. You're the one who's hurt, you shouldn't have to... I shouldn't be like this.
[ Never mind that it's because of him, is another thought deep within the maelstrom of her mind, whispering things she's not yet ready to know. ]
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He's not stopping her from crying. He's really not stopping her from simply just letting herself go for now in whatever method she needs. It's why he finds himself just for the time being idly contemplating how to go about this; certain things can be worse on him knowing that the mid section of his back was hit the way it had been.)
And I did say that you can do anything to let it out... since that's what I want. (Maybe it's too soon for how soft his tone gets, maybe it's much more too soon in how he's looking at her with his injuries being an afterthought now upon letting his lips brush against her crown again for the time being. If she wants to kiss him more then he'll let her do that even if it meant he came out with kiss swollen lips and near forgetting that there's a time and place.
He only has to hold strong this time because she wouldn't want to have more on her. His back reopening it's stitches being the main part of it.)
... maybe it's too bold to say but I was more worried about getting back to you in one piece at the time. By the time I managed to get away, I was stumbling for hours and kept thinking 'if I fall, Eula would drag me out from wherever I end up at while proclaiming vengeance under her breath and obscenities about it'.
(Even if it meant chasing him into the Abyss is what he thinks might happen which was another reason why he drove himself onward. Were she to do that then there would be no chance for the two of them to return to how they were knowing how the Abyss taints those who enter and seeps into them.)
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Or, she wonders somewhat helplessly, is this just her brain's way of trying to push her back from what she knows are feelings too deep for him, something deeper than just worry, something deeper than the "like" by which she defines it— even if it makes no logical sense for her to feel this way.
Nonetheless, the tears keep flowing even as she tries to make them stop, even as she finds a hint of laughter on her lips at his statement, a slight shake of her head the answer to his unspoken question: no, it's not too bold of him. ]
I would have. [ Her voice when she speaks is thick, wet with the emotion clogging her throat. Is it strange, then, that there's a strange little part of her joyful that it was with that thought that he continued on? That even if it was out of nothing else but fear of her vengeance, it was the thought of her that pushed him forward, kept him going.
She presses a small, chaste kiss against whatever part of him she's fallen against in her emotional frenzy— she's not exactly sure whether his chest or neck or shoulders, only that he can reach her crown with his own kisses— and breathes a slow breath in through her nose, trying to calm herself even as the waves of emotion threaten to crash over her again. ]
I would have killed the bastard that hurt you first... and then you for giving up before making it back to me.
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Maybe something underlying his feelings that went beyond like, something deeper, something he wants to say so badly but finds the words failing him on this tongue just as he idly wonders how to tell her eventually. A thing that even he can find scary but is choosing to hold strong for her sake due to not wanting her afraid more than she may perhaps be.
The conclusion he came to near makes him wonder what the Archons are doing more to him. If it's beyond like, beyond something like hate, there's only one thing. Love. He's in love. With heartstrings plucked about the feeling as if daring to believe he can deserve such a notion, logic would say he stops this before it develops further but that is far too late for him. No. Stopping this was impossible from the start is what he thinks now, what Diluc believes whenever he gathers his thoughts enough to direct away from his inner voices telling him to not give her his heart.)
... maybe if this was like one of Jean's romance novels this would be the part I confess something deeper. Though I'd hate to be that cliché telling you. (Maybe he can admit that much despite throwing his childhood friend under the bus with her like of such tales though unintentionally. As well as unintentionally giving her ammo against the Acting Grandmaster without thinking about it briefly.) Though I could if you want me to. At least about some of the things I realized. (Maybe a hint to the conclusion he came to but he won't fully tell her that he thinks perhaps he fell in love with her until she's ready.
She deserves a chance for it to be more appropriate, a time for it to be where they're both able to be simply themselves instead of what they make themselves into. A time where she's not emotionally wanting to fall apart as he lays there holding strong for her heart to not crumble more with her kisses against the space between his nape and shoulder.)
I also don't doubt that... as part of what I said I realized, I wanted to see you. (This isn't easy to say, by his tone, shaky but firm even as he looks at her but it's the biggest part of what he wanted to say.)
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And perhaps there's something to be thought about here, about the admission of what should by rights be a secret of Jean's— the Acting Grand Master reads romance novels, apparently— but it's drowned in the
seadry desert sands of overwhelming confusion, and she's left to blink into the space between his neck and shoulder— without actually realizing that that's where she is.Confess something deeper.
Does he mean what she thinks he means, does he mean the same strange feeling that swirls in her gut when she hears him speak, when she worries for him, when... when everything— even if it's too soon for that, not just for her but for him too surely, for both of them it's too soon— even if her feelings are the same, even if she knows it by the way she smiles thinking of him, the way she dreams of him when she sleeps, the way her heart beats faster in her chest at his smile—
It's too soon, far too soon, just the thought has her pulse seizing into an anxious, thumping rhythm; and yet at the same time there's a strange kind of sickly sweet hope welling in her breast, and all of a sudden Eula feels like she's about to pass out.
Her fingers clench into fists against his chest, nails digging shining red crescents into the palms of her hands.
When she speaks, her voice sounds like dust. ]
Sounds like I know what to get the Acting Grand Master for her next birthday.
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As much as he considered saying it now, he knows by now just how her mind can work once he finds himself also taking the opportunity to just settle his arm around her so that she could be more comfortable in the event that she did bury more into him knowing circumstances were different at the moment between them.)
... if she asks, please tell her Kaeya told you. (Just to spare himself a rather flustered Jean giving a look of betrayal knowing that he accidentally gave away one of her secrets to Eula. He half wonders what she might do with the knowledge if her attention first was to give Jean a birthday gift of it; was that really all? He near thought she might terrorize her more with the knowledge based off this.
Though that does count as terrorizing Jean to begin with. She never told anyone, only Diluc and Kaeya knew from growing up with her. Barbara likely knew but that was another story in itself given the sisters were having to mend a rift of their own. A thought he pushes to the side for deciding to give Eula his full attention again given that he did cause her to have another crisis in a short time period.)
... the birthday gift aside, I think I'm more sorry for not realizing something was wrong until after the Hydro Lector found me.
(The sound of it taunting him is going to irritate him for a good while by the small flare of his heat but he's not going to let it interrupt his recovery.)
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