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[creidim]

the arms of the ocean are carrying me
the arms of the ocean delivered me

[ text | voice | omen | action ]

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[unsheathedfromreality]

Ah, [comes a noise of acknowledgement so quiet it'd be hard to tell Illarion had voiced it, but for the puff of cloudy breath with the sound.] Then it is so, I have woken you. My apologies; I did not mean this.

[He opens an eye, tipping his head to regard her--bleary and lopsided--through his veil. To be greeted as it's you has put a hint of a smile on his face, the barest up-curling of one corner of his mouth. It's very sweet in its way, incongruous with the whole situation and the gently slumbering god at their backs.]

I am not, as it happens, "all right." [Consciousness is taking active effort; so would lying and pretending he's better off than he is, whatever his instinct to hide the injury.] Though I am mending. What is not, [he takes an unsteady breath,] killing us Sleepers outright, we heal from, yes?

[To say nothing of the Lake's help, and Moon Presence's gentle aura. That latter was not renowned for healing, but it is making him feel safer--more able to take this moment to rest.

It is, in a small way, very tempting indeed to lay his head back against the Pthumerian and fall asleep as a way to avoid Luna's other question.

He does not do that, though he is several seconds in getting to it--now that he's (he thinks) reassured her his case isn't critical.] As for this, [he gestures toward the smear of blood at his throat,] I am attacked by a monster. I am letting its fangs get too close to my neck, yes?

[Which glosses over entirely what sort of monster it was, and why he'd made such a mistake in the first place. Perhaps it will be enough.]

cw mention to hand injuries

[creidim]

It's alright. I've come to not sleep too deeply sometimes. [ There's certainly times when she is safe and comfortable enough to sleep properly; at least when she's within her own home she's alright enough. But there's been instances there when she's been robbed of that safety. So even with the safety of Moon Presence: ] I know she would keep me safe, but— unfortunate past experiences.

[ She sees the smile, even as slight as it is. And while he says nothing else about the whole thing of being addressed, Luna's bold enough to pipe up about it. There's something close to apology in her tone, though. It feels a little impolite on her part to have not asked him before now: ]

I realise I'm afraid I've never learned your name.

[ Luna listens quietly, concern shifting into her expression for a long moment. Not alright, but on the right way with going about healing from it — her eyes drifting to the lake a moment. ]

You've gone to the water. [ A statement, not a question. Considering the watery-state of the stain. She'd done the same, the first time she came here and found Moon Presence slumbering. Washed her hands to find the cuts carved deep into her hands by Paimon healed up, even if marks remain. ]

Monsters can sometimes tend to do that, yes. [ She offers it quietly with a nod. She turns her head to look about them. It's calm and quiet beyond the soft surroundings of the snowy lake. ] Does it... need to be dealt with—?

[ However so is left open to interpretation; Luna prefers much to not kill monsters unless she has to. She's no Hunter, even if she's capable. If there's a way to help a beast first, she'd much rather take that option. ]

[unsheathedfromreality]

[That she's a light sleeper comes as little surprise, though it's saddening to hear. He could protest in turn that it was all the more reason to not disturb her (and feel as much, too)--but he doesn't have the reserves to pursue it beyond a quiet,] Even so.

[Even so, they as Sleepers owe each other so much. Like camaraderie, like an offered name and all that implies--so when she says she hasn't learned his, obliquely asking, there's a rueful note in his reply.] My people do not burden others with our names, when first--when first we meet them.

If there is something you would call me, I would answer to that. [She's one he trusts to give him a good one, from their past interactions. She is observant-- (He nods; he's been to the water.) --and hasn't lost a certain air of innocence despite the wisdom she's won in this world and the one before. Anyone who thought first of how to gentle and mend a beast rather than kill it deserved esteem.

In this particular case, however... He lets his eyes (the visible one, the hundred not) fall closed again, reaching out to his far-away Omen and querying her status. The friend monster they'd fled is still furious enough to chase her, though she's widening the gap between them as she squeezes between boarded-up basements in Crenshaw.] It stays distracted, for now. My Omen has it--she will say, if it slips loose, and call the Hunters. But this is not--this is not being a, mm, immediate worry.

[And, because he does not want her in Bigby's path, even if she's not there to kill him, Illarion adds quickly--] So we might sit here and speak of something more pleasant instead, yes? While I am regaining my strength.

[creidim]

Strange that a name might seem like a burden. [ It's a curious thing, but she understands it in ways. Things she's learned over time, reasons behind not giving names. There's power in names, for one. She's always so careful about giving Paimon's away, for one. ] So I can give you a name?

[ There's a small inhale at that in surprise; certainly it feels like big responsibility to do something like that. It's... admittedly not the first time she's come across something like this. ]

I knew someone once who didn't have a name at all, so I gave him one so I could call him something. [ There's a hint of a smile. ] I picked the colour 'Phthalo' for him. Would a colour suit for you?

[ There's a nod of understanding, quelled by the mention of there being no immediate threat. That's something at least. But it seems to be a bit of a sore subject — asking for something nicer to talk about. Not that she'll pry any further; it's his business. There's a rueful smile as she inhales, shrugging. ]

There's often hardly anything pleasant to talk about, considering this place. [ The last few months have been particularly difficult. But January seems to be a little calmer, kinder and — considering where they are now: ] Although it's nice Moon Presence has come down to the ground.

[ She turns her head for a moment to look up at the slumbering god behind them, smiling softly. There's a small hum of affection before she asks: ]

Do you know much about her?