43 Comfort

"Mingan?" It was Ellloreah. "Area you awake?"

He sat up wearily and leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. Of course she had noticed his return. Their room shared a wall, and he'd left himself open to her. He sighed and wondered if he could possibly get away without answering.

"Yes," he replied, his voice hoarse despite himself.

"I ah… felt that you were restless. Perhaps I could help?" She paused, and he closed his eyes, willing her away. And yet part of him hoped that she wouldn't leave. He wanted, craved her company.

He straightened, realizing he'd not be ridding himself of her so easily, and pulled his legs off the edge of the bed. "The door's not locked." He slumped, his elbow on his knee, his chin resting in his hand.

She slipped in, closing the door behind her, glancing at him briefly and then back down at the floor. "I heard you return, and then your dreams…"

He sat up a little, studying her. "Meddling around in my head again?"

She put up her hands, cutting him off. "No! No, of course not. I just couldn't help but sense… I would have not disturbed you if I had thought it was mere fatigue or an every day worry."

He sighed heavily. "I don't know why I don't block you. I have the damned rune."

She gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged. "I like to think you enjoy my company."

He gave her a weary chuckle. "If you would like to try whatever it is you had hoped to do, I certainly could use the rest."

"Alright," she said softly, kneeling in front of him, grasping his hands in hers.

With that simple contact, his hands in hers as she knelt before him, head bowed, his fatigue lifted instantaneously. The ache deep in his bones, the sorrow, the anxiety, the weight of age lifted so suddenly that he inhaled sharply and sat up, pulling away from her. The break in connection caused a slight recoil, but only a fragment of the earlier weight settled back on his shoulders.

He felt better, there was no doubt. She'd lifted a lifetime's worth of weight only briefly, but it had been such a startling relief, and though the memories still settled back in his mind, he felt significantly lighter.

"Thank you," he said.

"You are welcome," she said finally, though her expression was vaguely haunted. She gave him a strained, tired smile and turned her gaze from him, a hand falling heavily to the floor to support herself.

"Elloreah?" he questioned, reaching down to place a hand on her shoulder. A faint jolt of emotion hit him. She was exhausted, nearly sick from it. Backlash, he realized. What she'd taken from him had to go somewhere, and while she didn't absorb the memories and emotions directly, she was not yet skilled enough to have redirected the full brunt of the backlash.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wondering if her time on earth had somehow weakened her.

She put a trembling hand to her forehead. "I took too much, too quickly, she said, her voice cracking.

He put a hand lightly on her shoulder. "It's backlash."

She nodded, head bowed, unable to look up at him. Her breath was coming short and ragged.

"Elloreah," he cautioned again. "Take a deep breath. You absorb emotions, take them into yourself. What you're feeling is a result of that."

He felt the pull of her, her need, desire for comfort. He dropped off the bed and knelt beside her. Their eyes met only momentarily, hers distinctly startled as he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She was stiff at first before slipping her arms around him and clinging to him with a distinct edge of desperation.

They sat like that for a long moment before Mingan pulled her up from the hardwood floor. She stood with him, drawing back and wiping at her face furiously. Mingan sat back down on the bed, giving her a moment to compose herself. She took a step back, and he reached for her wrist. She hesitated, shaking her head, avoiding his gaze.

"Come. Just sit with me," he coaxed.

She sat down beside him, allowing him to slip an arm around her shoulders, to pull her close, to draw her further onto the bed, so he could rest his back against the headboard. She smelled vaguely of horses, grass and of earth. Just as a dryad should smell, of forest and wild things.

The slight shuddering of her breath had calmed, and she lay against him still and quiet. He wondered what she sensed from him and looked inward. He felt content, calm with her in his arms. It was as if a void had been filled, though temporarily, and he hoped that this shared intimacy might have brought her the same comfort. He put his hand to her hair, stroking it lightly before settling his hands back, chastely on her upper arm.

Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. Before he'd realized it, he'd fallen asleep, taken into the deep dark comfort of dreams.

Mingan awoke to the bright glint of morning sun cutting through the curtains across his face and blinked, momentarily disoriented. He moved to sit up, realizing only once he'd stirred that he was not alone. Elloreah had fallen asleep as well, exhausted by her earlier efforts and overwhelmed by the emotional exchange.

Rested, he shrugged off the intensity of the moment as just that: exhaustion, magic and unchecked emotion.

"Elloreah," he said softly, giving her shoulder a shake. She moaned and buried her face further into his shoulder, pulling herself closer to him. He tried again. "Elloreah, come on, wake up."

She blinked and pulled away, as if suddenly aware of herself. "Mingan?" she gasped, glancing around wildly. She scrambled back from him, eyes wide. "For a moment, I thought…" She glanced at him and then away, cheeks coloring.

Mingan chuckled despite himself. "You fell asleep," he said, climbing to his feet.

"I shouldn't have stayed," she said. She worked at the ring on her finger, the gem glinting in the light that poured through the window. "I don't know what I was thinking," she said, getting to her feet.

"You are an empath…," he replied. "I don't see how providing comfort is anything to appear so worried over."

"I slept in your room," she murmured. "What will others think?"

He laughed. "If anyone noticed, it is none of their concern."

Mingan turned to his dresser, fishing out a fresh shirt, disgusted that he'd not changed before climbing into his freshly made bed or spending such an intimate encounter with her.

She shook her head. "You don't understand. I cannot risk…"

"What risk?" he asked, turning to face her. She looked up at him, drawing back. "There is no one here to judge you, no risk of being found out, condemned for being what you are."

She forced a sad smile. "He will judge me..."

"Well, I suppose you can find out shortly from Lokni whether or not he is coming for you." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's none of my business, but perhaps you are better off now. Without him."

Despite his urge to question her further, to push the fact that she was no longer in her home world, that the laws and judgments there meant little to her here in this one.

"Go on then, Elloreah. You've chores to do," he said, the cruelty of his comments evident even to him.

She slipped from the room quietly.