65th of Ashan, 717
early morning
Vaughn woke slowly, coming into a sort of semi-consciousness as if from a daze or an extremely deep sleep. Lying in bed he was warm and happy and content, though still half-asleep he couldn't remember why. All he knew was how he felt, and what he felt was that he hadn't felt this good in a long time. Without being entirely awake he murmured, some something, maybe a name that was lost even to him. Perhaps it had been from the dream.
The dream.
Vaughn opened his eyes. Still struggling with the last remnants of sleep he moved his cheek against the pillow and looked around the room. It was an unfamiliar place to him for the most part, and he shifted a little before he realized he was wrapped in someone's arms.
He looked over. Lorena. The dream.
But it couldn't have been a dream because there she was, she was here, she was lying next to him still asleep. Warm brown hair, long thin limbs, her eyes closed but he knew them to be like his, shifting color along with her mood. It was Lorena. She was here beside him. It was real.
"You're back," he murmured, and it all came back to him in full detail; he remembered he had said that to her last night as well. After. "You're back." He knew she was sleeping and he shouldn't rouse her, and yet he couldn't help but reach out and brush a hand ever so gently against her cheek. Vaughn rolled a little, making sure not to shift her arms so much as to wake her, and laid on his side in the bed so he faced her comfortably. Wanting to reach out again to touch her, to hold her, but sleep was a barrier between them, soft and implaccable as the sheets that surrounded them, and he didn't want to break it. The best he could do was scoot a little closer and bask in her gentle warmth.
He remembered. He had told her the bare minimum last night, had not brought up more painful subjects like his captivity, his near-execution, or his mother's death, and he found himself wishing now that they wouldn't have to discuss such topics when next she opened her eyes. He had always wanted Lorena to be happy, even when he had left her he had wanted her to be happy. He refused to think of that as a fault. And so his only discontent was what he knew they would inevitably do when she woke; the way they worked was that, predictable as a storm in Ashan, they fought. It had nearly happened again last night and Lorena had narrowly saved them from Vaughn stupidly leaving the room.
Now, still watching her with soft golden eyes, he reminded himself that just as they fought they always, always came back.
And that was all he wanted, really. He just wanted her back.
early morning
Vaughn woke slowly, coming into a sort of semi-consciousness as if from a daze or an extremely deep sleep. Lying in bed he was warm and happy and content, though still half-asleep he couldn't remember why. All he knew was how he felt, and what he felt was that he hadn't felt this good in a long time. Without being entirely awake he murmured, some something, maybe a name that was lost even to him. Perhaps it had been from the dream.
The dream.
Vaughn opened his eyes. Still struggling with the last remnants of sleep he moved his cheek against the pillow and looked around the room. It was an unfamiliar place to him for the most part, and he shifted a little before he realized he was wrapped in someone's arms.
He looked over. Lorena. The dream.
But it couldn't have been a dream because there she was, she was here, she was lying next to him still asleep. Warm brown hair, long thin limbs, her eyes closed but he knew them to be like his, shifting color along with her mood. It was Lorena. She was here beside him. It was real.
"You're back," he murmured, and it all came back to him in full detail; he remembered he had said that to her last night as well. After. "You're back." He knew she was sleeping and he shouldn't rouse her, and yet he couldn't help but reach out and brush a hand ever so gently against her cheek. Vaughn rolled a little, making sure not to shift her arms so much as to wake her, and laid on his side in the bed so he faced her comfortably. Wanting to reach out again to touch her, to hold her, but sleep was a barrier between them, soft and implaccable as the sheets that surrounded them, and he didn't want to break it. The best he could do was scoot a little closer and bask in her gentle warmth.
He remembered. He had told her the bare minimum last night, had not brought up more painful subjects like his captivity, his near-execution, or his mother's death, and he found himself wishing now that they wouldn't have to discuss such topics when next she opened her eyes. He had always wanted Lorena to be happy, even when he had left her he had wanted her to be happy. He refused to think of that as a fault. And so his only discontent was what he knew they would inevitably do when she woke; the way they worked was that, predictable as a storm in Ashan, they fought. It had nearly happened again last night and Lorena had narrowly saved them from Vaughn stupidly leaving the room.
Now, still watching her with soft golden eyes, he reminded himself that just as they fought they always, always came back.
And that was all he wanted, really. He just wanted her back.