PENUMBRA (how the flowers grow)

12. Geranium

"Melancholy, comfort"

Generally, Tuluvey would not classify himself as a worrier, but right now he figures that is an apt way to describe him. As they leave Crowkeep, he keeps a close eye on Sabina, studying her face and mannerisms, watching to see if she's okay. Appearances say that she's not any more off than she usually is- the cloud of anxiety is almost a constant thing- but he can't help but be concerned. No one could blame him after last night, after all. He tried his best to assuage her panic then and he knows better than to assume she's stopped thinking about it.

As they walk down the trail, Tuluvey stays silent. It's not that he doesn't want to talk, he very much wants to talk to her, but he wants to talk about her nightmare. Specifically, he wants her to talk so he can comfort her. She doesn't talk, though, and so he figures his best bet would be to coax her into it.

If I don't open up, I doubt she will. That's how I've gotten her to talk before, though admittedly not about things like this.

Tuluvey almost says something, then stops himself. He isn't sure yet and he loathes not being sure about things. Sabina's been distant all morning (save for a rather insistent and heartbreaking apology) and he doesn't want to scare her off. He'll admit that he's just a little bit (maybe more) afraid that she's going to try to leave for whatever convoluted reason she thinks up.

"Sabina?" he asks casually.

She turns, clearing her throat a little. "Yeah?"

Nerves rise and Tuluvey finds himself tripping over his words in a decidedly not charming way. "Can we- do you- perhaps think we could hold hands?"

She could find it comforting, he tells himself. And if it's secretly for him, then whose business is that but his?

"Oh," she says quietly. "Um, all right. Okay, I guess."

Tuluvey had expected rejection, but instead faces delight. A smile instantly lights up his face and he takes her hand in his, linking their fingers together. Their hands sway between them and Tuluvey can't help but feel honored. She doesn't have her gloves on, either, so he can feel the warmth of her skin. Her hand is slightly clammy, but Tuluvey doesn't mind in the slightest. The invigorating sensation of her hand twined with his is what prompts him to start talking, and once he starts talking, he can't stop.

"I was really worried about you last night," he blurts. "I was so, so worried. All I wanted to do was give you a hug, but I knew you wouldn't be up for that, so that's why I didn't. I care about you. I really do. I adore you. I want to make sure you're okay. I know you can take care of yourself, achere-" Tuluvey falters. If he could blush, his face would be on fire.

I just called her achere. Oh, Gods am I in deep now. Xaniphe would be laughing her ass off, Tuluvey thinks to himself, more flustered than he would like to admit. Xaniphe would, if she were here, also tell him to up and marry her right now, fae style. He also knows this, but refuses to acknowledge that he does.

Tuluvey clears his throat and powers on like he hasn't just upended his own world, like he isn't going to be pining for the foreseeable future like some human, because he sure isn't going to rush this with Sabina even if it's not his way. "I know you can take care of yourself, but-" but I want to cherish you. "-I still want to look after you. I'm your friend. I don't like seeing you hurt that way. I know that you've never really talked to anyone about your hurts, but you have me now. I'm not saying talking will get rid of them, but it might make you feel better. We can share the knowledge."