He sees through her. Of course he does — it would be difficult not to, with the way she was shuddering and shaking, like a newly born pegasus trying to learn how its wobbly legs worked beneath it. Embarrassment blooms in her chest, first, but close on its heels is disgust, turned inward, that she cannot be strong enough to hold even this small thing back from him. Can she not just be the knight she’s supposed to be? Can she not just save him from the tossing waves and heal his hurt, and have him not think a single thought to her own woes and worries?
His voice breaks, and all self-loathing vanishes to focus on him. There, gathering her potion bottles as gently as though they still matter, he tells her a horrible tale with a horrible fate: his own. How he has pain growing in his body that will one day overtake him. Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach like a stone sinking to the depths of a lake. She feels... cold. Distant. And all the while, he worries over her — the silly little gnawing in her bones, the little weakness she succumbs to that likely means nothing. He passes her bottles back to her and goes to hang his coat and jacket, and he’s still shaking. How much must he hurt? How hard must he be fighting, to be still, to be steady, before her?
She drops her potion bottles in her pouch haphazardly. There’s something more important that needs her attention right now. Slowly, she raises herself and... almost without thinking... crosses the distance between them and draws him into a hug.
“I’m...” Her voice comes to her distantly, an afterthought. “I’m sorry, Lord Eliwood.”
His bright hair smells of sea water, but also... soft, somehow. Soft, and warm.
Her grip tightens around him, as though she can protect him from what he’s told her, as though she has any right to.
“Are you... alright?” Of course he isn’t. Of course he isn’t. Who would be? But... “You—... you can lean on me, if you need.” I will catch you.
When she hugs him, he hesitates only a moment before returning the embrace tightly. It's warm and reminds him there's still plenty of people who care for him in the here and now, much like Fiora, who rushed out to save him in his hour of need. "Thank you Fiora. For your concern, for saving me, for everything."
He stays like that a moment, just savoring the hug, appreciating the warmth of another person, before a thought hits him. This is not appropriate. He pulls away slowly, so as not to alarm Fiora or make her think she's done anything wrong, but he still holds her hands in his as he speaks to her. He's reluctant to part with her warmth quite yet.
A hum of acknowledgement is all she gets for a moment before she gets her next answer. Is he all right? The pain and numbness have mostly passed, he feels fine and he'll get what he needs to actually be fine once he returns to the monastery. "I will be. For now, I will be all right. The worst of it is not until decades away. But thank you, I'll..." He pauses for a moment, unsure of his words.
Uncertainty had never been a normal companion for him, but here and now, if followed him at every turn, making him doubt every word he spoke. Fiora was dear to him, and it seemed most of what he said to her was either a misstep or a mistake.
Finally, the right words come to mind. "I'll keep that in mind. As long as you let me do the same for you. At least in the ways I can. You're strong and capable, but no one can do everything alone." I won't let you carry the world's weight alone.
