House of Emblem: Freefall

Sunshine can we take a couple minutes?

White Lilies
-Seeun-
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28th of February;
Sovereign Year 1143

When asked later he won't outright admit that he was scared, frozen upon opening his eyes and seeing but pitch black, hearing the sound of scratching so close he'd felt it in his ears. Pulling the blanket down had alleviated it, the tiniest bit, just enough, but-

Blindness. It would've been a hindrance for sure, a genuine fear for him before he realizes the moon's out, hitting the curtained wall he faces.

Thankfully he is alive, has sight–almost thankful, not as much as he could be considering the way his heart nearly jumps into his throat when he rolls over and sees a figure sat at his bedside, illuminated from behind by the moon that shines in through the window.

"Gods, you-" His voice cracks, hoarse as he nearly chokes, "make a noise, I'm begging." A jacket lays over him that isn't his and he pulls it closer under his chin. Hunter has the balls to snort in reply as he continues the scratching, a quill in his hand, "What're you writing?"

"A letter to your mother." Hunter replies and Seeun still can't see his face, can't really gauge the tone he's being given, "Telling her how her son almost succumbed to the cold." Okay- "Y'know that thing he should be acclimated to-"

"Alright!" The way his voice wavers really helps his case–it doesn't–as does the very stern expression he gives–both of them have dealt with far more threatening opposition–so surely he must look very menacing as he throws the covers back harshly–regrets it instantly as he realizes his own jacket is missing and huffs, "I can barely see your face? How are you even writing? Your mother would have a fit if she was here-"

He wins in some regard at least, has clearly made enough of a nuisance out of himself as he tries to sit up because Hunter closes the journal on his lap with a sigh and props his shoed feet on the edge of the bed. Seeun feels pressure in his lungs as he moves–realizes that's something that's probably not great but his head feels like it drains and coats his parched throat, something that's definitely not great. He has to pick his battles, however, and dealing with the scratching in his throat seems the better option when up against the scratching of Hunter's quill.

He still can't see the expression he's being given but books have been thrown before but not now, so he assumes the other is in good humor–or at least pities him, Seeun can work with that.

"The moon's full." Hunter simply says, turns so that the light casts on the side of his face to prove a point, "There was no other choice." There's candlelight beyond the curtain that keeps them to the corner of whatever room they're clearly in. Very accessible candlelight that the other could probably ask for despite whatever inconvenience it'd be to Seeun's sleep.

Seeun comes to his own delusional conclusions surrounding Hunter's need to go out of his way for others, fists his hands in the coat that now lays across his lap-

And chooses to ignore it. Willingly. For his own sake. Mostly because his chest already feels like it's caved in and is being hollowed out again in real time.

A damnable illness for sure.

Instead he takes a look around the room–stone, high enough up that he doesn't see anything close when he looks out the window, a little cabinet on the wall above him. By the temperature alone he guesses they're not in the north anymore, barely remembers the past day and that's not something that weighs lightly on him as he tries to think. Luckily for him, Hunter finds his confused expression a little too readable, "You owe me for the rest of the way here." Honestly? Worth its weight in gold and pride. But not in nagging, "Probably owe the others and your cousin a bit more for the worry you caused them."