(Untitled)

[shelley_winters]

It's late afternoon when Shelley finds the headache has receded enough for her to sit up without too much discomfort. She's still fairly dizzy, and her head feels hot underneath chilled fingers, but she makes herself get out of bed anyhow

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[always_a_liar]

After a few minutes, the kitchen door opens and Elan exits. Blinking in slight surprise at Shelley's presence, he spoke calmly. Having already finished the housework, and spoken with her work, Elan was settling down with a book and a cup of tea.

"Oh? You are out of bed, I see."

With little ceremony, he set the cup of tea in his hands down in front of her before sitting beside her on the couch.

"Here."

[shelley_winters]

"Mm-hmm."

...Mumbles Shelley, slightly nonsensically. Her legs are curled up in front of her, dressing-gown wrapped around slightly damp bare legs. It may be heading towards summer, but it can still be less than warm. It's England.

[always_a_liar]

Seeing that she was cold, Elan slipped an arm around her shoulders. Sitting in still silence, he simply let the time pass. There was little to say at the moment, but just to be. To be Elan and Shelley together. He liked it.

[shelley_winters]

She shifts almost automatically, settling after a moment when it becomes clear that's all he's doing.

Several minutes go by.

"What?"

[always_a_liar]

A soft smile from Elan as he glanced at the redhead.

"You were cold."

[shelley_winters]

She shrugs moodily.

"Wet hair does that. It's getting on your sleeve."

[always_a_liar]

Closing his eyes, he commented rather distantly. At the moment, her health and even comfort was the most important. If she were not made happy, then he had no chance of it either.

"That does not matter."

[shelley_winters]

"Hmph," Shelley tries to say, and just makes herself cough instead.

It's so... frustrating.

[always_a_liar]

Opening his eyes, Elan glanced down at Shelley and inquired softly.

"What is the matter?"

[shelley_winters]

"I'm... coughing, that's a matter," she manages, with some hauteur.

Some.

[always_a_liar]

His other hand strayed over to rest on hers. His voice soft and rather distant.

"I just--I worry for you, and for us, though you especially."

[shelley_winters]

Her hand is snatched away, and her already-curled up body goes rigid.

"'Us' isn't," she says, hoarse voice stilted.

"And why worry about me? I'm only ill."

[always_a_liar]

Elan shook his head. He had not particularly expected an overly positive response to that, in all honesty.

"Not your physical health... This is very trying on both of us at this time."

[shelley_winters]

"What is?" she asks, mock-innocently, fingers curling in the folds of the dressing-gown.

Cold water is trickling down her neck, making her shiver.

[always_a_liar]

His arm was still around her as Elan seemed to sink into the sofa as if to escape his thoughts, to vanish into the cushions.

"We are galæ, out of place. This place is not mine, but neither is it wholly yours now. Over silent dinners, during boardgames, books with tea, the world has changed, and become something alien and not entirely friendly to us both. We feel it within us, and I especially."

There was a hollowness to Elan, he felt. A hole that he could not fill, a world that was not his own, and simply bearing it was all that was in his power.

[shelley_winters]

"This is my home," Shelley whispers.

Her expression is one of misery tempered by determination. He will not make her wish- make her unhappy to be here.

"The only thing I hate about it is you."