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The first time Senah wakes properly after her fights at the far end of the universe, her friends are furious. The memories float a little hazy at the back of her mind now, awash in a blur of adrenaline and pain leftover from fighting very nearly to the death. Only a few phrases stand out, a handful of crystal clear images seared into her mind with startling clarity. (Thancred’s sharp voice still full of worry, G’raha's desperation and questions, Alisaie crying and furious all at once.)
She had drifted off again after that, chest tight and curling into herself to make herself small. Still exhausted, still battle beaten, but now with the additional fear of having finally proven herself too reckless, too much trouble for the rest. The worry gives her strange dreams that tangle messily with reality – dying next to Zenos but this time no teleporter appears, the brilliant expanse of stars above Ultima Thule as she stands there alone under Meteia’s nest, the sad grey of the elpis flower in her hand.
When she wakes again, consciousness comes slowly, filtering back piece by disjointed piece. At first she’s not sure if this is another dream, the way that she can’t quite bring herself to open her eyes and there’s a quiet static hum in the air. But no dream would have her entire body flare bright with pain like this, and she shifts slightly to see if it hurts more to move, just to prove that she truly is awake again.
(It does. Twelve above.)
A quiet whine leaves her as pain blossoms over her shoulder and across her chest in a blinding line where Zenos had caught her and dragged her close with his scythe, drowning out her other hurts. Instantly there’s movement to her right and a quiet murmur of concern. A gentle hand settles in her hair to steady her, then runs its fingers through the strands.
“There you are, my wayward star,” a voice says softly, warm affection laced through every syllable.
Raha.
She relaxes in seconds, head tilting into the touch but not moving anymore. Senah has learned her lesson now, although she’s still glad she tried it. (How often has she worried since Garlemald that her body is not her own? That she is caught in some dream and someone else has control? Better to hurt and know.)
Despite the comfort his familiar touch brings, she can’t quite pull enough of herself together to convey her gratitude for him. Truly she can barely string words together at all, her mind a jumbled mess made more of emotions than coherent thoughts. The lack of order unsettles her, enough to slowly begin the work of dragging her scattered pieces back into place.
He seems fine with merely sitting with her in the quiet, idly toying with her hair, but she’s never known herself to be so content. With what feels like all the energy she has left, she blinks open weary eyes and searches for him at her side. Her expression twists with guilt as she lays eyes on him; he looks exhausted. The smile pulling at his mouth does little to hide the dark circles under his eyes or his messy hair, like he’s run his hand through it too many times.
Before she can even put her hard won thoughts to voice though, he shushes her and rubs a thumb across the edge of one of her ears. It’s a dirty trick, one he knows gets her to relax instantly, and it works this time too. “None of that, please. I've stayed here quite willingly, as have the others. You do have a way of making people loyal to a fault, I must say.” He sounds amused, if a little rueful. It’s a far cry from how he last looked in her memory, and she’ll take it with both hands if it means not thinking about his tears.
She can’t muster more than a huff of laughter herself, although the longer she’s awake the more she feels in control. Despite how long she seems to have been asleep she feels utterly exhausted still, the tempting darkness of sleep hovering just below the surface if she lets herself fall. But Senah is as stubborn as the others say they are loyal, so she mentally hauls herself away from the edge. Just a little longer with him. A few more minutes in his company.
A purr kicks up in her chest in response instead, and that seems to settle well with him if the way his smile widens is any indication. She floats halfway between consciousness and oblivion for a few minutes, relishing in his touch and the simple fact of living long enough to feel it again. “Glad you’re okay,” she says eventually, turning the thought over in her mind until she says it without quite realizing she’s spoken.
The snort of laughter she gets in return is far from dignified, and she’s always liked when he laughs like that. What she wouldn’t give to never hear him adopt the grave tones and burdened expression of the Exarch again. “I think I should be the one saying that to you,” he says, and she would laugh if she had the energy. “You’ve heard enough scolding already, I won't subject you to more, but. Suffice to say, I am relieved you’re alright as well.”
The undercurrent of worry as he says it doesn’t escape her notice, but she’s too tired to follow the thread. They'll have plenty of time to have a talk about communication and reckless behavior between them when she can keep her eyes open for longer than a few minutes.
His hand changes course and gently curls around her cheek now, where his thumb swipes endlessly back and forth over the faint scar on her cheek there. It’s a familiar, comforting movement, one that has her eyes flickering open to watch him again. (When had they closed?)
There’s naked warmth in his red eyes when she meets them, affection that washes over her soothingly. There was a point out at the edge of space where she had thought she’d never see it again, wasn’t there? And now she gets to keep it as long as she likes, revel in her guiding star pointing her ever north.
“Rest,” he tells her, gentle but firm. “You’ve more than earned it.” But gods, haven’t they all? Haven’t they all given enough?
“So have you,” she murmurs, and she allows herself the pleasure of seeing his smile at the words before she surrenders to her exhaustion and closes her eyes again. Even with what she’s sure has been endless care from her friends, she knows there’s only so much magic can do to usher a body to health. In the end, she knows she needs the rest.
The darkness of her closed eyes is a comfort once more, no longer the terrifying void she thought she may never emerge from. She drifts off with his familiar presence at her side, and in her dreams the elpis flower glows a warm yellow.