[ It's a bizarre position to find himself in: not quite propositioned, not quite propositioning. Feeling the need to defend himself against the insinuation that there is a world in which having reason to sleep with her might ever be an undesirable outcome.
It flashes across his face for a moment, brief confusion, a pinch between the brows. But she's right. He would prefer to try other measures. Not least of all because, in this very specific set of circumstances, sleeping with her is a last resort. ]
I don't think it needs to come to that. [ It hadn't last time. He's just not sure how to translate what did work last time to skin of her back. ... And actually, maybe rather than stand here frowning at her like she's a conundrum only he can solve, it'd be more sensible to just - ] When this happened before, it was the lungs.
[ Which may go some way to explaining why he's quite so tense. Why he came quite so quickly once he realised what she was telling him. ]
She couldn't breathe, so I breathed for her, and after a while she was able to take over again.
Perhaps it's simply a matter of drawing... whatever this is, back into yourself.
[ Whether that means he needs to be touching her, embracing her, whatever it is — making direct contact seems to be the simplest way of going about it.
There's also the possibility that magic might need to play a role, if it means opening herself up to him in that sense, but she isn't that eager to suggest that particular merging if they can achieve the same through some kind of physical connection. ]
I don't — it's not that I can't breathe.
[ But she does have an awareness of this strange ooze on her, of it embedded in her flesh, even if she can't tell whether it's moved or expanded since she first noticed its existence. Besides, it's not exactly at the best angle for her to study it head-on; she'd only caught the briefest glimpse in the mirror, and half-believed it was some kind of mudstain at first. ]
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cw: suffocation mention
It flashes across his face for a moment, brief confusion, a pinch between the brows. But she's right. He would prefer to try other measures. Not least of all because, in this very specific set of circumstances, sleeping with her is a last resort. ]
I don't think it needs to come to that. [ It hadn't last time. He's just not sure how to translate what did work last time to skin of her back. ... And actually, maybe rather than stand here frowning at her like she's a conundrum only he can solve, it'd be more sensible to just - ] When this happened before, it was the lungs.
[ Which may go some way to explaining why he's quite so tense. Why he came quite so quickly once he realised what she was telling him. ]
She couldn't breathe, so I breathed for her, and after a while she was able to take over again.
no subject
[ Whether that means he needs to be touching her, embracing her, whatever it is — making direct contact seems to be the simplest way of going about it.
There's also the possibility that magic might need to play a role, if it means opening herself up to him in that sense, but she isn't that eager to suggest that particular merging if they can achieve the same through some kind of physical connection. ]
I don't — it's not that I can't breathe.
[ But she does have an awareness of this strange ooze on her, of it embedded in her flesh, even if she can't tell whether it's moved or expanded since she first noticed its existence. Besides, it's not exactly at the best angle for her to study it head-on; she'd only caught the briefest glimpse in the mirror, and half-believed it was some kind of mudstain at first. ]
But I don't know that it isn't spreading.