[ He says it low, in a murmur, as he lets them into the room that will be hers. It is quiet, peaceful, neatly made up. He is a steady arm for her to lean upon as she settles onto the bed.
The story is not over, of course. Not by half. But they are no longer in the quiet safety— odd though it feels to call it such— of the mist. Reality is reimposing itself, and practicality with it. Tippetarius still stands at the door, regal and silent. Ozpin's expression is so very tired.
He is quiet a long moment. Then: ]
Allow me to fetch you something clean to wear. Glynda's wardrobe should do, and we will find something better-fitting in the morning.
[Willow settles onto the edge of the bed quietly, and lets go of his arm. She's more exhausted than she thought she was when they were out in the mist, where there was a chance of being attacked by Maul, or who knows what creatures could have been lurking in the shadows, and it's tempting to want to curl up under the blankets just as she is.
Still, she wants to hear the rest of the story.
Ozpin offers to get her something clean to wear and she nods, and rubs her eyes to try to encourage a bit more alertness. A chance to clean up a bit and get changed should help her stay awake a bit longer, she thinks, and she'll likely sleep better for it.]
Thanks. You're sure Glynda won't mind you raiding her wardrobe?
[ He would offer her something of his, as he once did to Winter, when she first stayed here. But he knows Glynda: the moment he tells her that one of their charges is suffering, no degree of strict practicality will cover how fiercely she cares.
With Willow on the bed, he rises and steps away, back towards the bright-antlered elk at his back. ]
I will return in a moment, then. Is there anything else I should fetch?
[ The story dissipates ever further between them. ]
[She appreciates them both - especially now when it seems like things can't get much worse, and she can't help but smile a little as Ozpin reassures her Glynda won't mind loaning out something for her to wear at least for the night. She is not used to other people looking after her like this.]
Okay. Thank her for me too?
[Willow clears her throat. She'd rather get back to the rest of the story sooner - both because she wants to hear how the rest of it goes, and because she can't imagine stopping in the middle like this makes it any easier on him. Especially when he seemed so determined outside to share it with her.]
[ He steps away, out into the hallway past Tippetarius. As he goes, the elk murmurs to him: It is good of you to try. It will get easier with each telling.
It will not, Ozpin murmurs back, under his breath, as he goes to the stairs. It never has.
The elk can say nothing to that. He is left at the foot of the stairs as Ozpin ascends into the darkness. When he returns with a nightshirt and a glass of water, Willow has already fallen asleep in her clothing, and the dream guide has gone. ]
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no subject
[ He says it low, in a murmur, as he lets them into the room that will be hers. It is quiet, peaceful, neatly made up. He is a steady arm for her to lean upon as she settles onto the bed.
The story is not over, of course. Not by half. But they are no longer in the quiet safety— odd though it feels to call it such— of the mist. Reality is reimposing itself, and practicality with it. Tippetarius still stands at the door, regal and silent. Ozpin's expression is so very tired.
He is quiet a long moment. Then: ]
Allow me to fetch you something clean to wear. Glynda's wardrobe should do, and we will find something better-fitting in the morning.
no subject
Still, she wants to hear the rest of the story.
Ozpin offers to get her something clean to wear and she nods, and rubs her eyes to try to encourage a bit more alertness. A chance to clean up a bit and get changed should help her stay awake a bit longer, she thinks, and she'll likely sleep better for it.]
Thanks. You're sure Glynda won't mind you raiding her wardrobe?
no subject
[ He would offer her something of his, as he once did to Winter, when she first stayed here. But he knows Glynda: the moment he tells her that one of their charges is suffering, no degree of strict practicality will cover how fiercely she cares.
With Willow on the bed, he rises and steps away, back towards the bright-antlered elk at his back. ]
I will return in a moment, then. Is there anything else I should fetch?
[ The story dissipates ever further between them. ]
no subject
Okay. Thank her for me too?
[Willow clears her throat. She'd rather get back to the rest of the story sooner - both because she wants to hear how the rest of it goes, and because she can't imagine stopping in the middle like this makes it any easier on him. Especially when he seemed so determined outside to share it with her.]
Maybe just some water too, please?
no subject
[ He steps away, out into the hallway past Tippetarius. As he goes, the elk murmurs to him: It is good of you to try. It will get easier with each telling.
It will not, Ozpin murmurs back, under his breath, as he goes to the stairs. It never has.
The elk can say nothing to that. He is left at the foot of the stairs as Ozpin ascends into the darkness. When he returns with a nightshirt and a glass of water, Willow has already fallen asleep in her clothing, and the dream guide has gone. ]