(Untitled)

[an_evening_star]

The star opens her eyes.

Okay, so that's not precisely true.

To be entirely honest, the star does not so much open her eyes as flutter them in a rather useless manner. Though, really, she has aspirations of opening them, so it really should count

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[tristranthorn]

Unfortunately - or perhaps, fortunately - for Yvaine, Tristran is still slumped on the other side of her, caught between the world of unconsciousness and dreaming.

He doesn't make a sound or any sort of movement.

[an_evening_star]

She shifts slightly, letting out a discontented, uncomfortable groan as something rough and decidedly unpleasant scrapes along the insides of her wrists - and then, rather immediately, hissing as the noise ricochets around in her skull.

Gods, she wants to go back to sleep. It was quiet there.

And she hadn't been conscious enough to notice the rather horrid crick in her neck either.

Ugh.

[tristranthorn]

For long moments, there is still no sign of life from the body tied to the star, but then Tristran starts to twitch a bit.

He is uncomfortable after all, and that fact is only becoming more apparent with each passing second.

Ugh, indeed.

[an_evening_star]

She tips her head back against what is very likely his shoulder and far less likely a breathing pillow (because pillows, generally speaking, do not breathe - and they tend to not be quite so pointy) and the action is far less successful in cracking her neck than she would particularly like.

It probably doesn't help that everything bloody swirls again.

At some point thereafter, there is a quiet, rather miserable whimper of, "Ow, fuck."

[tristranthorn]

The 'ow, fuck' more or less rouses him from his sleep - well, to a certain degree, anyway.

He shifts a little in his spot, his wrists rubbing against his bindings, chafing his skin a little.

Then he starts to groan a bit. And oi - his head feels like the hollow inside of a giant church bell that's just been rung.

[an_evening_star]

Welcome back to consciousness, Tristran Thorn.

It's just marvelous here.

The star makes an attempt at the blinking thing once more, with marginally more successful results this time around - though, really, it is probably not all that impressive to keep a plain, solid sort of ceiling in focus, if one were to really think about it.

Luckily, we haven't progressed onto the thinking level just yet.

[tristranthorn]

Oh, that it is. That it is.

He is beginning to see for himself just how marvelous consciousness really, truly is.

(Not.)

His head still feeling hollow and emptied out, he manages to utter a rather groggy, "... Yvaine?"

And wow. His voice is just far too loud.

[an_evening_star]

Her head shakes - just very slightly - before she thinks better of it and stills once more.

"Don't yell," she mumbles, sound of it muffled somewhere against the side of his neck, her eyebrows beetling together and eyes squeezing shut. "S'loud."

It really really is.

[tristranthorn]

"M'not yelling," he retorts - in low tones that sound like fireworks going off in his ears.

And her voice does too, actually. Which he promptly points out to her, in case she was wondering.

"You're being loud, too."

And ugh. ALL THIS TALK IS JUST TOO MUCH.

[an_evening_star]

"Sorry," she replies, sounding rather completely contrite - with relatively equal shares of petulant and utterly miserable thrown in for good measure.

The ceiling isn't quite so fuzzy anymore.

It's intriguing.

"Don't mean to."

[tristranthorn]

"Me either," he returns, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper.

Because anything else is simply rattling his brains about in his head. That certainly makes looking about their environment difficult.

"...where are we?"

[an_evening_star]

"Not sure."

She blinks again, tone slipping into something quiet and soothing - it's still a bit hazy and muzzy at the edges, but it's mostly pleasant.

"Not the room," she decides and tugs her hands tentatively, frowning when they refuse to move.

[tristranthorn]

He lets out a soft, almost quiet groan that could be a bit of a whimper (but it'd be a very masculine whimper, of course).

"How'd we get here?" he asks, once his head has cleared up a little more. "I can't ... remember anything."

[an_evening_star]

(Of course.)

"Wasn't paying attention," she replies, righting herself and peering vaguely around the room. It's small and stuffy and cluttered - no windows. "Was a bit too busy being displeased with you."

There's something of an undercurrent of 'sorry' in that one too - underneath the general sort of persistent dazedness.

[tristranthorn]

He lets out a small quiet sigh.

"Me too," he admits, feeling really rather rotten about it.

Duped (yet again!) because he had a rather silly squabble with the girl he loved.

Oh, yes. Tristran Thorn certainly is the kingly type.

"Well, this situation is - unfortunately - familiar."

[an_evening_star]

That gets a short breath, almost like a laugh, and the sound of it is a little more bearable.

At least, it sets off a lesser amount of ringing this time around - which is all that anyone can really ask for.

"No goblins though," she adds, with something of a smile.