[ for a brief, terrifying moment, the darkness feels familiar - akin almost to the dungeons under central, to the long hallways, to suffocating air. riza remembers the feeling, various points of that night that come back to haunt her in her sleep, of white rooms and echoes of voices and a blade across her throat. she has to blink the visions away as she sees roy's body shift on the bed, a tension slow away from it, and she grounds herself in the moment.
roy is blind. for whatever is going on, for whatever reason, he can't see. he needs her eyes. he needs her, and she can't let her own thoughts get in the way of that.
so when he asks, riza swallows back another sound. another shake in her voice. instead, she sounds sure, solid, as she takes a step inside - slow enough that he can tell, falling back on old habits, as she moves over to the table in the side of the room, where she know a lamp is just in reach, the door falling closed behind her. there is a small window in their room, with just the barest amounts of morning light peeking through, giving her enough to move as she steps inside. ]
Mid-morning, sir. [ there isn't so much a hesitation in the words as an uncertain tension, her hand reaching for a box of matches and striking one of them, turning on the lantern in the side of the room and giving the rest of their space a low glow.
she turns back to him in a slow, eased into moment, as she sees him sitting on the bed with his eyes closed. she swallows again, but waits - for orders, for instructions, for any kind of explanation. ]
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roy is blind. for whatever is going on, for whatever reason, he can't see. he needs her eyes. he needs her, and she can't let her own thoughts get in the way of that.
so when he asks, riza swallows back another sound. another shake in her voice. instead, she sounds sure, solid, as she takes a step inside - slow enough that he can tell, falling back on old habits, as she moves over to the table in the side of the room, where she know a lamp is just in reach, the door falling closed behind her. there is a small window in their room, with just the barest amounts of morning light peeking through, giving her enough to move as she steps inside. ]
Mid-morning, sir. [ there isn't so much a hesitation in the words as an uncertain tension, her hand reaching for a box of matches and striking one of them, turning on the lantern in the side of the room and giving the rest of their space a low glow.
she turns back to him in a slow, eased into moment, as she sees him sitting on the bed with his eyes closed. she swallows again, but waits - for orders, for instructions, for any kind of explanation. ]