milliways_bar | (no subject)

Without much movement, without a sound, Námo sits on the other end of the sofa, his legs drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his knees. He peers at the Man with wide, dark eyes, unsure of much where Gorlim is concerned.

Quietly, the Vala watches.

After a time, there is a glint of light, reflection of the fire, deep within the furs. Half-lidded eyes peer out at the blurry shape sitting nearby. No other change is apparent.

So they stare at one another.

Námo does not know what to say to Gorlim. He still hurts from their last conversation. He still feels the acute sense of abandonment.

He rests his chin on his knees, wracking his brain for something to say.

There is a stirring of motion under the fur. Like a bird pulling its head from under its wing, he sits up and blinks at the Vala.

"What're you all th' way over there for?" he mumbles sleepily, refusing to acknowledge fears that it might be because he doesn't want to come any closer.

"I did not wish to disturb you," he says quietly. "You sleep rarely, and if you were comfortable and warm, it would be rude of me to wake you and demand your attention."

He pauses, words on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you all right?"

Because he didn't seem all right, and that worried Námo more than the awkward silence that had been between them for some days now.

He shrugs, which might be a reply or might just be an attempt to draw the cloak tighter around himself.

"'M fine. Cold, though. You... seemed well, last I checked." He hasn't for a while. He's been afraid what he might find.

"You never disturb me," he adds softly.

"Define 'well', Gorlim," he says with a small snort. He closes his eyes briefly, taking a breath, and then looks at Gorlim again. "When did you last check, for I have not spoken with you since my argument with Ramon."

And even that had been... unpleasant.

"I... looked in on you a few times. Through the bond. You were asleep last time, you seemed content." And shut away from me. "Are you not well, then?" He asks gently, wanting to help.

He sighs.

"I am not unwell." I am unhappy. "Asleep and content? I have not felt contentment in some time, little bird, so I am unsure when you could have peeked in upon me to find such an emotion. I did not know you had looked in upon me; I did not feel your presence through the bond."

"You were with Lee," he says, sinking a bit lower into the furs. "I couldn't get closer than to feel you. You seemed sort of... closed off to me. Although maybe I was just very tired."

There is a flash of guilt over his face and through that bond.

"Oh."

He looks away.

"He and I argued. Three unpleasant conversations in one day was a bit too much for me. Lee came to me, unable to sleep because he did not wish to go to bed angry. We... spoke. At length. I confessed some of my thoughts to him, he tried to comfort me. We talked for a while, and then we slept."

His eyes remain fixed on the floor.

"I was angry with you; I was hurt. And while I did not close you out completely -- for I would have heard you call if you were in need -- I did not wish you close. I am sorry I did so, it was not fair to you."

It had just all hurt too much. He had been tired. And lonely.

Gorlim unfolds himself a little, despite jostling the cloak around and causing it to lose some of his precious warmth that way.

"Did I sting you so badly?" he asks. Please come closer. I hate having you so far away from me.

He notices the parting of the cloak and, without thinking, crosses the small divide between them to cinch it closed again. When that is done, he remains there, hovering, unsure.

Námo wets his lips as he looks to where his fingers touch the cloak.

"I disliked your flippant sarcasm, your dismissal of my own desire to protect. You have been distant and removed from me, not many kind words or warm touches." He swallows nervously. "Lee offered me those things when I needed them, reassured me your mood would pass and it did not mean anything of import..."