[He isn't wrong about his offers. Tifa simply looks to his cloak with a small hum, but it carries no coldness in it. It's appreciative, if the tiny smile that tugs at her lips isn't enough to show, but the thought of wrapping herself up in him—no, his cloak—feels like a bit much at the moment, after that intense exchange earlier. With the way her stomach is turning and fluttering, the thought of food isn't very appealing either, so she simply allows her feet to carry her idly to the ground near the fire, where she takes a seat on the mossy stone floor.]
I'm good. Thanks.
[She says it finally while her legs curl up against her chest. Her hand comes out so that it's just barely touching the small flames, and she adds her own touch of magic to it as well, and they roar a little higher. For a while, she says nothing else, only watching the flames grow and grow until they're almost a full-fledged fire, her thoughts running a hundred yalms a minute.
There's a stretch of silence where she only watches the fire grow, soaking in what little warmth it gives in the cold cave. She almost has half a mind to shuffle closer to Eustace—only to seek his warmth, nothing else—but there are those thoughts, those doubts again that only stop her. One of them is going to have to break the ice eventually, if they're going to be stuck here, or else they're both going to be in for a long, awkward night.
... ]
You think the horse got away okay?
[It's not much of a conversation starter, but it's something. As long as it isn't about what happened, then they should be fine, right?
Through the corners of her eyes, and through the hair that drapes over her face, she looks over at him to gauge his reaction.]
no subject
I'm good. Thanks.
[She says it finally while her legs curl up against her chest. Her hand comes out so that it's just barely touching the small flames, and she adds her own touch of magic to it as well, and they roar a little higher. For a while, she says nothing else, only watching the flames grow and grow until they're almost a full-fledged fire, her thoughts running a hundred yalms a minute.
There's a stretch of silence where she only watches the fire grow, soaking in what little warmth it gives in the cold cave. She almost has half a mind to shuffle closer to Eustace—only to seek his warmth, nothing else—but there are those thoughts, those doubts again that only stop her. One of them is going to have to break the ice eventually, if they're going to be stuck here, or else they're both going to be in for a long, awkward night.
... ]
You think the horse got away okay?
[It's not much of a conversation starter, but it's something. As long as it isn't about what happened, then they should be fine, right?
Through the corners of her eyes, and through the hair that drapes over her face, she looks over at him to gauge his reaction.]