Asher presses his thumb to the space between his eyebrows, directly above the bridge of his nose. And he winces.
The headaches he had started to suffer from since Szofrit’s capture were getting worse. And the most frustrating part about them, besides their random appearance and painful lingering, had to be his inability to tell from where they appeared. What triggered them to begin with? He was eating and drinking regularly, still exercising; nothing had fundamentally changed about his day-to-day activities.
Sure, things were…strained…in the world, but they would eventually even out, right? It wouldn’t always be this low…even if, all things considered, this was the lowest things had been since the descent of that damned ship. He shudders as he remembers it, as the memory of the battle against the Mother of Machines flashes behind his closed eyes. He winces again, nostrils flaring, shoulders hiking up defensively around his neck.
It was all he could dream about, really. Good sleep had become a fantasy, one that he chased with reckless abandon, but was always just outside of his grasp. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten eight long uninterrupted hours.
His hand falls to his side as a familiar figure enters the lobby of this building, looking more worse for wear than he did. Before she has a chance to even call out to him, Asher stands and places himself at her side to act as a pillar for her to lean on. It is subtle, the way he links his arm with hers and smiles down at her with a nod.
Pride was such an annoying vice.
“Any change?” he asks as he gently tugs her toward the door. The walk back to her inn room was not long, perhaps fifteen minutes, but the world was dangerous now in a way it hadn’t been before. Especially for the Starcalled. An escort was needed, necessary even, and…it kept him away from the Lion’s headquarters.
He wasn’t ready to face that can of worms just yet.
The headaches he had started to suffer from since Szofrit’s capture were getting worse. And the most frustrating part about them, besides their random appearance and painful lingering, had to be his inability to tell from where they appeared. What triggered them to begin with? He was eating and drinking regularly, still exercising; nothing had fundamentally changed about his day-to-day activities.
Sure, things were…strained…in the world, but they would eventually even out, right? It wouldn’t always be this low…even if, all things considered, this was the lowest things had been since the descent of that damned ship. He shudders as he remembers it, as the memory of the battle against the Mother of Machines flashes behind his closed eyes. He winces again, nostrils flaring, shoulders hiking up defensively around his neck.
It was all he could dream about, really. Good sleep had become a fantasy, one that he chased with reckless abandon, but was always just outside of his grasp. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten eight long uninterrupted hours.
His hand falls to his side as a familiar figure enters the lobby of this building, looking more worse for wear than he did. Before she has a chance to even call out to him, Asher stands and places himself at her side to act as a pillar for her to lean on. It is subtle, the way he links his arm with hers and smiles down at her with a nod.
Pride was such an annoying vice.
“Any change?” he asks as he gently tugs her toward the door. The walk back to her inn room was not long, perhaps fifteen minutes, but the world was dangerous now in a way it hadn’t been before. Especially for the Starcalled. An escort was needed, necessary even, and…it kept him away from the Lion’s headquarters.
He wasn’t ready to face that can of worms just yet.
[ @Rael ]