[bodyswitch. for ian] what are you afraid of?

[thefairone]

It was becoming a habit, getting up before he did, before the light started to peak through the windows, and sliding out of bed making as little noise as possible to climb down from the tree and empty the contents of her stomach behind a tree, wrapped in an oversized shirt, before climbing back up and back into bed, still feeling awful, but feeling

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[weemanmurray]

Ian came awake slowly at the sound of her voice, his arm automatically reaching for her waist sleepily.

"Mmmph? What's that, m'darlin'...is th' world turned on it's head, an' ye up so early?"

[thefairone]

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling back for having woken him, as strange as this was, and leaned closer, staring because she couldn't make herself look away.

"Aye, the world has indeed gone on its head again, mo serc," she answered, dodging the bit about her being already awake as she tentative reached out and touched his face. "Ian, Ian, ye have to open yer eyes."

[weemanmurray]

Ian opens his eyes, blinking blearily, smiling up at her, his fingers curling into long blonde hair.

"What's gotten into ye, lass?" he murmured, and scratched his chest. And stopped.

He blinked.

[thefairone]

Oddly enough, this wasn't horror or outrage, or even discomfort Isolde was feeling, no, this was simply guilt.

"Oh Ian, Ian, 'm so sorry, so terribly sorry," she whispered, half pleading, touching her forehead to his, finding the odd starts of tears prickling backs of her eyes.