“It is what it is. Don’t you fret about me.”
Edgar catches on quick, heaving a carefree shrug as though the whole thing is naught more than a minor inconvenience. His healers would argue otherwise, of course, but it’s all a matter of perspective. He and his friends are still here, trying for a second chance at a peaceful future. A lame knee seems worth its while in the grand scheme of things, no?
The touch doesn’t go unnoticed, and it takes him a moment (or three) to recompose his thoughts and do something that isn’t just him fumbling uselessly with his words.
His own hand finds its place atop hers, reassuring and firm. Terra has put this Kingly mess back together more times than Edgar can remember; she need not do anything more for him. Just this – the chance to sit beside one another and be – is enough to tide him over for the rest of his days.
“I did my best to get up and walking again, if only to see you and
the children as soon as I could. It’s a real trek to get here from
Figaro; I feared the staff would never let me out of their sight!”
Terra laughed gently. Though she’d only spent a little time at at the castle overall, it was still plain that Edgar was hardly exaggerating.
“I’m sure the children would be flattered that someone so...important would be so determined to come see them. The girls will certainly be talking about it for days.”
She was very aware of the feeling of his hand on hers, but a little surprisingly...not in the way that she usually is of another’s touch. It made her feel...warm...Warm in a way she hadn’t felt since magic had faded from her being.
“Maybe Setzer would, um...consult with you on an airship for Figaro. Then you could visit more easily.”
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