[She shivers a little as the coolness of his leather clothes seeps through her nightgown, a garment never meant to protect from the lingering winter outside weather. But his cheek is warm against the crown of his head and his arms hold her every bit as tightly as she needs. The memories of the nightmares still play behind closed eyes and a few stray tears escape.
It doesn't matter what he's saying. The sentiment is recognized. The soft tones of someone trying to soothe another. The similar sort of tone she'd use with Prim whenever her little sister awoke from a nightmare. When did it all change? When had she become so needy for comfort?
Damn the Hunger Games. Damn Snow and Coin and everyone who ever used her as their pawn.
She sniffs and hugs him tighter., if such a thing is possible.] They won't go away, Zevran. The dreams, the memories -- they won't go away.
[action]
It doesn't matter what he's saying. The sentiment is recognized. The soft tones of someone trying to soothe another. The similar sort of tone she'd use with Prim whenever her little sister awoke from a nightmare. When did it all change? When had she become so needy for comfort?
Damn the Hunger Games. Damn Snow and Coin and everyone who ever used her as their pawn.
She sniffs and hugs him tighter., if such a thing is possible.] They won't go away, Zevran. The dreams, the memories -- they won't go away.