Work Text:
Alexandra Eames at rest is a sight few get to see, which is why Sylvia decides she has to sketch it. She may turn the end result into a painting, she decides, sketching the soft curve of Alex’s hair and face, the curl of blonde hair at her shoulder, peaceful smile tugging at Alex’s lips.
She won’t wake her, she decides, watching Alex sleep even as she finishes her first sketch, making mental notes on little things like the softness of the light against Alex’s pale skin, warm and tan where Sylvia is all porcelain and brittle, easily breakable where Alex is soft but strong.
Alex stirs and Sylvia smiles, turning the page and sketching a little more, delighting in the softness of Alex asleep. They’ve been through enough that this softness makes her heart sing.