[Very quickly, Nikolai realizes that the iron rod he holds, which can be unfolded into any tool he desires, will do him no good. Nothing it twists into can fix whatever ails Alina. While he can't help but note her half-dressed state — and his long-missing shirt draping her narrow frame — the stark signs of her distress demand his attention first.]
Alina, what—?
[But she leaves no room for him to squeeze a word in. No time, either, to take off his coat and boots before she grabs him by the arm and drags him toward the stairs. He only gets as far as taking off his gloves and tucking them into his coat pocket. At the top of the staircase, she whirls around to reveal the twin damp spots over her nipples, and realization crashes into him. All his words stick in his throat — no, they haven't even formed fully enough to get stuck anywhere. They are the nothing that fills his gaping mouth.
For one foolish, illogical second he wonders, Is it mine? And he shouldn't hope to saddle her with his bastard, shouldn't celebrate a child brought into this shifting world where neither of them can stay, but—
But of course she isn't...she can't be. Her milk wouldn't come in so early, before her belly has even begun to round. The gem-bonded can't become mothers and fathers to begin with.
He pretends that the sharp twisting inside his chest is only for the way Alina's voice splinters as she digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, a last-ditch effort against the tears that threaten to fall. The way the frayed ends of her confusion snag on him through the bond that still ties them together. Composing himself, determined to be solid for her while she's crumbling, Nikolai pulls her into him.]
I'm here now. I'll take care of you.
[All softly whispered yet firm with resolve. Though out of practice, his hands still remember how to soothe her. He pets her hair, combing from the crown of her head down the dark cascade that spills over her shoulders.]
no subject
Alina, what—?
[But she leaves no room for him to squeeze a word in. No time, either, to take off his coat and boots before she grabs him by the arm and drags him toward the stairs. He only gets as far as taking off his gloves and tucking them into his coat pocket. At the top of the staircase, she whirls around to reveal the twin damp spots over her nipples, and realization crashes into him. All his words stick in his throat — no, they haven't even formed fully enough to get stuck anywhere. They are the nothing that fills his gaping mouth.
For one foolish, illogical second he wonders, Is it mine? And he shouldn't hope to saddle her with his bastard, shouldn't celebrate a child brought into this shifting world where neither of them can stay, but—
But of course she isn't...she can't be. Her milk wouldn't come in so early, before her belly has even begun to round. The gem-bonded can't become mothers and fathers to begin with.
He pretends that the sharp twisting inside his chest is only for the way Alina's voice splinters as she digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, a last-ditch effort against the tears that threaten to fall. The way the frayed ends of her confusion snag on him through the bond that still ties them together. Composing himself, determined to be solid for her while she's crumbling, Nikolai pulls her into him.]
I'm here now. I'll take care of you.
[All softly whispered yet firm with resolve. Though out of practice, his hands still remember how to soothe her. He pets her hair, combing from the crown of her head down the dark cascade that spills over her shoulders.]