123 Vhalar 716
Pinned on his back, the mortalborn had little strength to move about on the bed. His muscles had finally relaxed, and his hands were no longer balled into fists, but his voice had not returned. The pillow under his calves kept his legs raised, and though his arms felt empty, as if he had been lifting hay-bales all day, Malcolm could feel some strength returning.Elyna had opted to bring Elsie to bed with her, and Malcolm felt better for it, knowing the baby was tucked between mother and father where she was safe. His sleep, however, was broken, with the man flinching at the slightest sound. The house felt like a matchbox, street noise penetrating the stone walls as if they were no more than paper. His hyper-aware senses extended to touch too, any slight shift in weight on the mattress or caress of hands and feet saw him jolted from sleep. Malcolm's stamina burned away like a candle, and by the fourth break, the flame had gone out.
He awoke to the sound of birds, chatter, and wagon wheels dragged over cobblestones. It was easy to forget how noisy the city was after spending so much time in the countryside. Eyelids heavy, the man felt as if he could drift off again, but noticed Elsie, wide-eyed and staring at the world, watching the way the light hit the walls and lit up the ceiling beams. Malcolm smiled and tried to coo at the child, lips forming the right shape to make the sound of her name, for nothing but air to follow. The knight made a frustrated sound through his nose and felt his heart rate pick up as panic set in.
There was so much he couldn't do without his voice. He couldn't teach, communicate, or lead an army, a task he would be expected to take up again in a few days time. Malcolm closed his eyes and felt Elyna place a hand against his chest, the gesture enough to calm him. He touched his finger to the back of her hand and spelled out the words I love you with individual letters traced one over the other.
After some water and a quarter hour to wake up probably, he sat up on the bed, taking his time to do so, and pointed to the dresser where he had left his notebook, and made a movement with his hand that mimicked writing. With ink pen in hand and paper on his lap, Malcolm wrote down three things.
Something for pain?
Please don't answer the door for anyone.
I have something to tell you...[/align]
Please don't answer the door for anyone.
I have something to tell you...[/align]
