[now, it's elsa's turn to be surprised. she makes a quiet little noise indicating as much when soo-won gently drapes his cloak over her—but doesn't resist, doesn't pull away. it's a truly sweet gesture—and when he nudges her towards him, she leans in, resting her forehead on his shoulder, the cloak's hood essentially hiding her face.
if it was like this, then... just for now.
her shoulders shudder, breathing hitching and catching, and the tears flow more rapidly, soaking into soo-won's sleeve. I'll have to apologize for that later.
but just for now, she could let herself let go enough to grieve.]
but he knows as well as anyone that there aren't any answers that you can give a person - and when he was a child, he would pretend that he could even replace the person who was lost. 'i'll be your mother now,' he'd said. he's grown now, and knows that's silly. some people can't be replaced.
what he can do is sit with people when they're rattled, stay with them while they're scared, and remain steadfast to help them find their way. he holds onto elsa's hand, gently lacing their fingers together if it'll help her feel like she's got someone to hold onto.
his other hand rests atop her head, over the cloak, offering reassuring, comforting strokes even as she cries
[it takes longer than elsa expects to get it all out—what else, exactly, had she been holding?—but shorter perhaps than it really should.
at last, her breathing begins to even out, her shoulders falling finally, and any sniffling, hiccoughing, stops entirely. but she doesn't let go of soo-won's hand, fingers entwined together as they are.
on the contrary, she brings her other arm up, tucking it against her and her companion's bodies, all but nestling into his side completely. with the dark of the cloak, and the warmth of his body, it's a very comfortable arrangement. it feels... safe. and right now, it feels as though that's what she needs more than anything else.
maybe too comfortable, though—because only a minute or so later, her breath smooths out into something much quieter—and her hand, holding on as it is, relaxes its grip ever-so-subtly.
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if it was like this, then... just for now.
her shoulders shudder, breathing hitching and catching, and the tears flow more rapidly, soaking into soo-won's sleeve. I'll have to apologize for that later.
but just for now, she could let herself let go enough to grieve.]
no subject
but he knows as well as anyone that there aren't any answers that you can give a person - and when he was a child, he would pretend that he could even replace the person who was lost. 'i'll be your mother now,' he'd said. he's grown now, and knows that's silly. some people can't be replaced.
what he can do is sit with people when they're rattled, stay with them while they're scared, and remain steadfast to help them find their way. he holds onto elsa's hand, gently lacing their fingers together if it'll help her feel like she's got someone to hold onto.
his other hand rests atop her head, over the cloak, offering reassuring, comforting strokes even as she cries
he'll wait through it, however long it takes]
no subject
at last, her breathing begins to even out, her shoulders falling finally, and any sniffling, hiccoughing, stops entirely. but she doesn't let go of soo-won's hand, fingers entwined together as they are.
on the contrary, she brings her other arm up, tucking it against her and her companion's bodies, all but nestling into his side completely. with the dark of the cloak, and the warmth of his body, it's a very comfortable arrangement. it feels... safe. and right now, it feels as though that's what she needs more than anything else.
maybe too comfortable, though—because only a minute or so later, her breath smooths out into something much quieter—and her hand, holding on as it is, relaxes its grip ever-so-subtly.
...she's asleep on him. whoops.]