08-18-2013, 10:53 PM
Sera smells like strawberries, and Sid remembers the shopping trip to Goodwill and the bottle that looks like a strawberry. She remembers grinning at the choice of it and saying nothing to dissuade Sera from that particular purchase. She catches Hawksley's eye and lifts her chin over Sera's shoulder, acknowledgement and greeting both kept silent, though she can't quite help the way the corners of her mouth quirk upward. How does one stay sad, or worried, or unhappy, or anything negative when in the presence of such warm sunlight?
Sera says I'm okay, though, and whether or not Sid believes her, she doesn't question her as she steps a little further into the room. She lifts her bag up over her head and looks about for only a second before setting it down near the door. The rest is absorbed a little more slowly. Justin stitched her up, Lena's at the hospital with Pan, and when Sera comes in for another quick hug Sid's arm goes around her shoulder and tugs her in close until Sera relaxes.
"I will give you a hundred hugs," says Sid, her voice low and quiet. "However many you need, ever." Sera motions to the bathroom and Sid's head turns that way, making note. When she looks back she nods when Sera says she figured she'd sleep in here, and shakes her head slightly when she starts to say if that doesn't work. "Here's fine." When Sera starts back for the bed, Sid looks around again, this time for a surface on which to rest her glasses, somewhere safe but visible and most importantly memorable. She settles on the windowsill.
Then she follows, back and around to the big bed which already has a warm body waiting in it. She waits for Sera to climb in beneath the covers before following her in. This way, Sera is surrounded by warmth, by comfort, by friendship, Hawksley on one side, Sid on the other. Sid pulls the covers over her a little as she tucks in, she pushes her long hair back so that it spills over the pillows, and she lays so that she's facing toward the middle. If Sera lays facing Hawksley, Sid fits herself to the curve of her spine, face pressed near to the back of Sera's neck, one hand draped over her side. If Sera lays facing her, Sid scoots closer, close enough that their foreheads maybe touch, close enough that their knees might need to twine, or their ankles, or their legs, and she takes one of Sera's hands in hers and drapes her other arm over her side. And if Sera decides to lay on her stomach or her back, Sid presses her forehead to her shoulder. Whichever way they end up, she reaches out to Hawksley, as well, because she needs this, too. Not as much as Sera, her need for contact and for comfort and for closeness is not nearly as immediate as it was, but it's there.
And once she has this, Sid realizes that she is exhausted. She's tired because it's the middle of the night and she's supposed to be awake in about five hours. And also, she's worn out from the things she's been trying not to think about and trying not to let herself feel. Comforting and comforted, head filled with the scent of strawberries and Sera's bed and Sera and Hawksley, almost as soon as her head hits the pillow Sid begins to drift.
Sera says I'm okay, though, and whether or not Sid believes her, she doesn't question her as she steps a little further into the room. She lifts her bag up over her head and looks about for only a second before setting it down near the door. The rest is absorbed a little more slowly. Justin stitched her up, Lena's at the hospital with Pan, and when Sera comes in for another quick hug Sid's arm goes around her shoulder and tugs her in close until Sera relaxes.
"I will give you a hundred hugs," says Sid, her voice low and quiet. "However many you need, ever." Sera motions to the bathroom and Sid's head turns that way, making note. When she looks back she nods when Sera says she figured she'd sleep in here, and shakes her head slightly when she starts to say if that doesn't work. "Here's fine." When Sera starts back for the bed, Sid looks around again, this time for a surface on which to rest her glasses, somewhere safe but visible and most importantly memorable. She settles on the windowsill.
Then she follows, back and around to the big bed which already has a warm body waiting in it. She waits for Sera to climb in beneath the covers before following her in. This way, Sera is surrounded by warmth, by comfort, by friendship, Hawksley on one side, Sid on the other. Sid pulls the covers over her a little as she tucks in, she pushes her long hair back so that it spills over the pillows, and she lays so that she's facing toward the middle. If Sera lays facing Hawksley, Sid fits herself to the curve of her spine, face pressed near to the back of Sera's neck, one hand draped over her side. If Sera lays facing her, Sid scoots closer, close enough that their foreheads maybe touch, close enough that their knees might need to twine, or their ankles, or their legs, and she takes one of Sera's hands in hers and drapes her other arm over her side. And if Sera decides to lay on her stomach or her back, Sid presses her forehead to her shoulder. Whichever way they end up, she reaches out to Hawksley, as well, because she needs this, too. Not as much as Sera, her need for contact and for comfort and for closeness is not nearly as immediate as it was, but it's there.
And once she has this, Sid realizes that she is exhausted. She's tired because it's the middle of the night and she's supposed to be awake in about five hours. And also, she's worn out from the things she's been trying not to think about and trying not to let herself feel. Comforting and comforted, head filled with the scent of strawberries and Sera's bed and Sera and Hawksley, almost as soon as her head hits the pillow Sid begins to drift.