[ There's a weight to his gaze that she finds herself absorbing, even if his response succeeds in tempering the renewed spike of her anxiety. While it's a minor comfort to know that this thing — the Darkwalker, whatever it is — seems to strike once and then disappear shortly after leaving death in its wake, it doesn't mean she feels all that eased, especially when she's still experiencing the lingering echoes of the fear that had accompanied its presence.
Still, the heaviness in his expression is one that she wishes she could relieve for him, especially when they'd already sustained their own hardships back in Fabletown not too long ago. It's a more distant memory for him by comparison to what she last recalls, but it seems like there's only so long either of them can bear this level of struggle before they reach their breaking point.
She doesn't hold the same perception of who these other people are yet, doesn't know them the same way he does — and she recognizes that the pain of loss will be keener for him, as sharp and punctuating as what the Darkwalker had summoned before. ]
Why do I feel like I should be asking you that?
[ For not the first time since her arrival, she's thinking about how long he's been stuck here without any indication of when he'll be able to go home — how long he's been dealing with all of this. Surely he's had other people to confide in — she can't claim sole rights to that — but the longer she looks over him, the more she wonders how much he's been forced to keep buried inside simply because there are no other Fables here who would understand it all.
She hasn't strayed too far from him, and reaching out a hand to gently, carefully clasp his is a purely instinctive thing, grounding herself not only in that physical contact but also trying to offer him some wordless semblance of reassurance. ]
I'll be fine. [ She offers a smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes, but her hand squeezes his. ] We both will, right?
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Still, the heaviness in his expression is one that she wishes she could relieve for him, especially when they'd already sustained their own hardships back in Fabletown not too long ago. It's a more distant memory for him by comparison to what she last recalls, but it seems like there's only so long either of them can bear this level of struggle before they reach their breaking point.
She doesn't hold the same perception of who these other people are yet, doesn't know them the same way he does — and she recognizes that the pain of loss will be keener for him, as sharp and punctuating as what the Darkwalker had summoned before. ]
Why do I feel like I should be asking you that?
[ For not the first time since her arrival, she's thinking about how long he's been stuck here without any indication of when he'll be able to go home — how long he's been dealing with all of this. Surely he's had other people to confide in — she can't claim sole rights to that — but the longer she looks over him, the more she wonders how much he's been forced to keep buried inside simply because there are no other Fables here who would understand it all.
She hasn't strayed too far from him, and reaching out a hand to gently, carefully clasp his is a purely instinctive thing, grounding herself not only in that physical contact but also trying to offer him some wordless semblance of reassurance. ]
I'll be fine. [ She offers a smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes, but her hand squeezes his. ] We both will, right?