[The pulse of magic through their point of bare skin contact feels so strange. Not bad strange, but strange all the same, as though she's pushing the magic straight through his skin and into his soul. It feels warm and safe and comforting, but alien.]
[Will that become more normal? Easier, as he gets used to the Bond? Or will it always feel odd? Is this getting ahead of himself? Should he — listen to what Zelda's saying, maybe—]
It — might be a good idea to warp there, honestly.
[Not because he wants to get it over with, particularly, but for the simple fact that Zelda doesn't feel well, and he'd like to reduce the amount of time she has to not feel well. Customs can get fucked. Zelda's comfort is at the absolute top of his priority list.]
If you're willing to take us, then I trust you. [Again. Just as true as it was a few moments ago.] Do what you need to do.
[A hum of assent as she remembers, faintly, that they've talked about this before-- teleporting, and the terrifying side effects overuse of that kind of magic can produce. It's important, that he's trusting her with this, she recognizes just as faintly, but she just feels so miserable that it goes without comment or further contemplation.
She pulls his hand close, fingers still laced together, and bows her head. She hums a brief, bright little melody, and in the next moment, they are weightless, floating in some blank white void that swallows their vision for just a second or two. And in the moment after that, they're at the footsteps of the Coven, surprisingly quiet with much of the students and faculty out on the town for the holiday. Zelda sways again, that tiny bit of released pressure enough to be dizzying, and grips Giorno's arm once more to steady herself.]
The, ah... The chamber is downstairs, I believe. [...] They'll... want us each to say something...
[A warning, sort of. She can't be sure of how well acquainted Giorno is with the whole... process. But she's also fishing for his opinion, terrified as she is. How important are they going to consider these "vows" to be? Eloquence is probably not her strong suit at the moment...]
[His hand goes painfully tight around hers as the light goes white. He doesn’t pull away, because he’s no fool; because no matter what instinct wants to tell him, he knows that there is nowhere safer right now than at Zelda’s side. Even if by her side is, in this case, for this moment, floating in this horrible void.]
[The moment passes more quickly than he expects it to, and he shivers out a sigh before remembering to loosen his grip on her hand. He doesn’t let go, though. At this point, he won’t until he’s asked to. He rests his other hand over hers as she reaches to steady herself on his arm.]
To say something . . . ?
[He remembers, yes. But it’s not the sort of thing he ever put any active thought into. What would he have done that for? Who would he have thought up practice vows for? Just her. Except he never did, because they were both in denial.]
About what our Bond will mean, and what we mean to each other, if I remember right. Mm. [After a moment’s thought, he quirks a faint smile at her, more confident than he feels.] I think we can do that. It doesn’t have to be long, does it? It’s not anyone’s business but ours.
[At this point, she wonders if she would even be able to stand on her own if she were to allow his hand to slip through her fingers. It certainly doesn't feel like it. Her legs feel too heavy as she forces each one forward towards the ceremony chamber.
His words offer her some comfort, however, and it shows in the slight slackening of her shoulders. Perhaps she would recognize the front he's putting up if she hadn't waited until the last second to go through with this, but at the moment that facade of confidence in his reassurance is like a balm to her frayed nerves. She doesn't match his smile - that's another thing she feels like she can't do at the moment - but her lips waver in a way that suggests she might've, if the situation were different.]
I would... appreciate that. If it isn't long. I fear I do not know how eloquent I can be at the moment; I... did not want you to hold it against me if I cannot come up with some masterful prose at the last second.
[Of course, the standards she holds herself to are miles higher than just about anyone else would consider reasonable, and Giorno likely doesn't necessarily need the insight offered by the Bond to see that, but, you know. There are only so many boundaries one can push against in a single night.]
[His smile doesn’t fade, exactly. Goes more thoughtful, perhaps, more complicated. But it does stay as he considers her words, as he supports her on their way to the basement. There is only so long Zelda can stay upright, he knows, so it’s important to keep moving — but just as important, maybe, to comfort her in the way that she needs. In the way that she’s so carefully asking for.]
[After a few pensive moments, he shakes his head.]
I won’t hold it against you, of course. But more than that, I don’t think either of us need . . . masterful prose. Do we? Not when we know.
[Know . . . Oh, there’s so much. He hums quietly, eyes on the movements of their feet, and makes sure his hip is aligned with Zelda’s, his shoulder with hers; that she can fall on him easily if she needs to.]
That you’re willing to do this with me at all . . . that says all that needs to be said. No speech can articulate that more clearly than we already know.
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no subject
[Will that become more normal? Easier, as he gets used to the Bond? Or will it always feel odd? Is this getting ahead of himself? Should he — listen to what Zelda's saying, maybe—]
It — might be a good idea to warp there, honestly.
[Not because he wants to get it over with, particularly, but for the simple fact that Zelda doesn't feel well, and he'd like to reduce the amount of time she has to not feel well. Customs can get fucked. Zelda's comfort is at the absolute top of his priority list.]
If you're willing to take us, then I trust you. [Again. Just as true as it was a few moments ago.] Do what you need to do.
no subject
[A hum of assent as she remembers, faintly, that they've talked about this before-- teleporting, and the terrifying side effects overuse of that kind of magic can produce. It's important, that he's trusting her with this, she recognizes just as faintly, but she just feels so miserable that it goes without comment or further contemplation.
She pulls his hand close, fingers still laced together, and bows her head. She hums a brief, bright little melody, and in the next moment, they are weightless, floating in some blank white void that swallows their vision for just a second or two. And in the moment after that, they're at the footsteps of the Coven, surprisingly quiet with much of the students and faculty out on the town for the holiday. Zelda sways again, that tiny bit of released pressure enough to be dizzying, and grips Giorno's arm once more to steady herself.]
The, ah... The chamber is downstairs, I believe. [...] They'll... want us each to say something...
[A warning, sort of. She can't be sure of how well acquainted Giorno is with the whole... process. But she's also fishing for his opinion, terrified as she is. How important are they going to consider these "vows" to be? Eloquence is probably not her strong suit at the moment...]
no subject
[The moment passes more quickly than he expects it to, and he shivers out a sigh before remembering to loosen his grip on her hand. He doesn’t let go, though. At this point, he won’t until he’s asked to. He rests his other hand over hers as she reaches to steady herself on his arm.]
To say something . . . ?
[He remembers, yes. But it’s not the sort of thing he ever put any active thought into. What would he have done that for? Who would he have thought up practice vows for? Just her. Except he never did, because they were both in denial.]
About what our Bond will mean, and what we mean to each other, if I remember right. Mm. [After a moment’s thought, he quirks a faint smile at her, more confident than he feels.] I think we can do that. It doesn’t have to be long, does it? It’s not anyone’s business but ours.
no subject
His words offer her some comfort, however, and it shows in the slight slackening of her shoulders. Perhaps she would recognize the front he's putting up if she hadn't waited until the last second to go through with this, but at the moment that facade of confidence in his reassurance is like a balm to her frayed nerves. She doesn't match his smile - that's another thing she feels like she can't do at the moment - but her lips waver in a way that suggests she might've, if the situation were different.]
I would... appreciate that. If it isn't long. I fear I do not know how eloquent I can be at the moment; I... did not want you to hold it against me if I cannot come up with some masterful prose at the last second.
[Of course, the standards she holds herself to are miles higher than just about anyone else would consider reasonable, and Giorno likely doesn't necessarily need the insight offered by the Bond to see that, but, you know. There are only so many boundaries one can push against in a single night.]
no subject
[After a few pensive moments, he shakes his head.]
I won’t hold it against you, of course. But more than that, I don’t think either of us need . . . masterful prose. Do we? Not when we know.
[Know . . . Oh, there’s so much. He hums quietly, eyes on the movements of their feet, and makes sure his hip is aligned with Zelda’s, his shoulder with hers; that she can fall on him easily if she needs to.]
That you’re willing to do this with me at all . . . that says all that needs to be said. No speech can articulate that more clearly than we already know.