[ Initially, Naminé's eyes are drawn to the wound of the moment, to the angry red that she's meant to help soothe. It's in better shape than she might have expected, and the confusion she's had percolating under the surface of her mind both contracts and then expands as one question is answered and another arises. The new, healed skin makes it clear enough why Link was still able to make it this far, but begs clarification as to how that miraculous recovery came to be there; his explanation, when it comes, helps stitch up that hole in her understanding.
Her reaction to the information, however, is delayed by the fact that about then, her focus shifts far enough for her to realize just how many other marks litter his skin. Lips parting, her expression otherwise grows still as she takes them in.
Out of a great many people, Naminé is perhaps one of the most qualified to recognize the real cost of being a hero. Not because she's ever been the one fighting to the death against the innumerable forces of evil with only a blade and one's will - no, she's had the benefit instead of peering deeply into the hearts and memories of more than one such individual. And as an observer acquainted intimately with both the outside and the inside of that particular brand of duty, with how it's affected the lives of those people, yet separated enough from that reality to fully appreciate the contrast between such an existence and a more peaceful one, she...
There's such a profound sadness in her eyes, then, when she looks at him. Not at his face, but at his history, as it's written on the surface of his flesh. She should have expected it, she realizes suddenly; from what she knows of him, his heart has surely been through just as much.
She can't very well tell him that, though. As her distraction fades, her shoulders rise slightly with her deep inhale, near-silent and through her nose. When she finally lets it out, it's with faint words that tremor only the tiniest amount, for she has spent entirely long enough speaking honestly to people battered for the sake of others to keep her voice level. ]
I didn't realize you knew how, [ she comments gently, eyes late to dart back up to his for just a second or two before she leans a fraction closer to examine the current wound itself. ] Whatever you did, it must have been impressive.
[ To manage so well in healing his wounds himself, that is. Perhaps there's more to that story; she endeavors not to feel inadequate in the face of such a significant part of the work already having been done. Inspection finished, the lass sits back to reach over and pull a wet cloth from the basin of water she's already got prepared and carefully wrings out the excess. ]
But I think I can help with what's left.
[ Judging by the state of his clothes, it's almost certainly best to make sure there's no chance of infection, just in case. As she turns to face him again, though, the lass hesitates, hand hovering with the cloth in it.
Suddenly, she feels a little awkward. Giving a small, 'um,' ]
Do... [ Under more urgent circumstances, she might not think much of it - but there's a peculiar sense of social anxiety that she's not accustomed to that arises here as she considers his chest. If this were one of the boys from her worlds that would be one thing, but-- ] Would-- you rather clean the wound yourself, or should I--?
no subject
Her reaction to the information, however, is delayed by the fact that about then, her focus shifts far enough for her to realize just how many other marks litter his skin. Lips parting, her expression otherwise grows still as she takes them in.
Out of a great many people, Naminé is perhaps one of the most qualified to recognize the real cost of being a hero. Not because she's ever been the one fighting to the death against the innumerable forces of evil with only a blade and one's will - no, she's had the benefit instead of peering deeply into the hearts and memories of more than one such individual. And as an observer acquainted intimately with both the outside and the inside of that particular brand of duty, with how it's affected the lives of those people, yet separated enough from that reality to fully appreciate the contrast between such an existence and a more peaceful one, she...
There's such a profound sadness in her eyes, then, when she looks at him. Not at his face, but at his history, as it's written on the surface of his flesh. She should have expected it, she realizes suddenly; from what she knows of him, his heart has surely been through just as much.
She can't very well tell him that, though. As her distraction fades, her shoulders rise slightly with her deep inhale, near-silent and through her nose. When she finally lets it out, it's with faint words that tremor only the tiniest amount, for she has spent entirely long enough speaking honestly to people battered for the sake of others to keep her voice level. ]
I didn't realize you knew how, [ she comments gently, eyes late to dart back up to his for just a second or two before she leans a fraction closer to examine the current wound itself. ] Whatever you did, it must have been impressive.
[ To manage so well in healing his wounds himself, that is. Perhaps there's more to that story; she endeavors not to feel inadequate in the face of such a significant part of the work already having been done. Inspection finished, the lass sits back to reach over and pull a wet cloth from the basin of water she's already got prepared and carefully wrings out the excess. ]
But I think I can help with what's left.
[ Judging by the state of his clothes, it's almost certainly best to make sure there's no chance of infection, just in case. As she turns to face him again, though, the lass hesitates, hand hovering with the cloth in it.
Suddenly, she feels a little awkward. Giving a small, 'um,' ]
Do... [ Under more urgent circumstances, she might not think much of it - but there's a peculiar sense of social anxiety that she's not accustomed to that arises here as she considers his chest. If this were one of the boys from her worlds that would be one thing, but-- ] Would-- you rather clean the wound yourself, or should I--?